Flight Over the Badlands

 

BADLANDS

By Samantha Mozart

We fly over windswept buttes

Carved in antler patterns, visions of ghostly dancing winds;

Semiarid, broadly roamed by herds of trees

Rushing toward precipices of yellow, buckskin bluffs.

Flat, brown land. Puffy white clouds.

Like popover dough spooned onto a baking sheet

Regimentally, like charging cavalry, shadows

Casting spectral tepees across a high, wild plain.

Hot, dry weather to the north, the weather report said this morning;

Hot, muggy weather to the south.

Nations divided.

We fly over the side that won our flight.

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