Illustration by Sam Bovard
Spitting Distance
Yellow ore-rich dirt spilled out
from the long-abandoned orifice,
where men once toiled blindly
to bring silver into the sunlight. As we
reached the final basin above the mine,
the misty rain lifted to reveal the rolling slopes
of green and ochre cut by the dark trail
switch-backing up its flank. Wind brushed us
across the nose like lost love. Our muddy boots
carried us onto the spine of a great dead giant;
to the left water flows to the Pacific,
to the right water flows to the Gulf,
and we spat on either side,
so that some part of us would span
this beautiful, broken continent.
Sam Bovard is a gay poet and MFA student at the University of Montana. He was recently featured in Heavy Feather Review’s “The Future” section. Follow him on Twitter @SamBovard.
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