These Mirrors That Refuse You, Too

Outside the window
Cut in the wall of
The castle of the
Knights Hospitaller,

The dun and olive
Ridge of Pine Valley
Mountain, outstanding
Dragon laccolith,

Slumbers in a dusk
Of triple digit
Heat, Fahrenheit, high
Above bright Saint George,

Thirsty as a horse,
Lit as a stellar
Nursery about
To discover dark

Matter’s horizon,
Or dark energy,
Or something that will
Turn out all the lights.

There was a photo
Essay yesterday
About the Kingdom
Of the House of Saud

And all its tourist
Aspirations, and
There were brilliantly
Lit cities, and there

Was ancient rock art,
And people selling
Vegetables from
Pick-up trucks, and

Shots of cottages
Like white diamonds
Set in turquoise waves,
On dream necklaces

Of walkways, only
Available for
Five times annual
Poverty level

Income per the night.
The mind snaps back to
Its present desert,
Two hours up the road

From Las Vegas, one
Hour down from Angel’s
Landing in Zion,
Saint George now blue dusk

Glittering. You know,
It’s not the rising
Heat, year by year,
That challenges you

To get things under
Control before you
Are all divided
Into heaps of dead

Or strings of parched specks
Still surviving. You
Maddened cockatoos
Demand the funhouse

Of your own display
Behaviors, wings out,
Pecking reflections,
Coordinating

Enormous murmurs
Of excess you want
More of from mirrors
You meant to mock you.