By Nathan Erwin

Albuquerque, NM

In the Monzano Mountains, a billy goat
is trying to fuck his mother.
I place the kid
in a separate pen,
while an electromagnetic sky
forges blue warnings somewhere beyond
the divisions of time. And I am afraid
to place my pain on the table
beside the squash & the steaming meat, afraid
of touching the bloody tool of regulation. Sometimes,
I let the kid inside the house.

I asked my mother, do you want to stop
revolving? To break through
the great snowbank of the Milky Way
and starve in the open desert beyond?

This sandstorm is her response.
This wind is inside the goat, inside the soft laws
of nations. There are no necks to break
between us. I open the gate
and lead him back home.
Down in the South Valley,
sands swallow this sprawling desert city.