Arizona
by Kaitlyn McNab
(published in Electric Lit, Issue 171, 2021)
I want to be whisked away to Arizona
and kissed in the depression of the Earth.
Surrounded by rocks that have heard the moans of creatures like me,
long necked
and ferocious
slow-stepping, and extraordinary.
Standing ankle-deep in oceans of sand
Under sun that refuses to give up
Sharing heat with someone that loves me,
that sees me as a beginning and the now,
their future and their lover from a past life
I want to love in Arizona.
I want my palms and shoulders and the back of my neck
bathed in sunlight and lips
To fall asleep in a city of cacti
and kept awake by all the life that romps in the night
I want to walk into the chilly desert draped under your arm,
blanketed by all of you and all of the stars
that seem more like ancestors,
winking and beaming down at us,
granting me the wish that has lived in my skeleton since my conception:
to be loved unconditionally
a freedom they’ve prayed over me endlessly.
I want the stars and the moon
and the lizards and the dirt
and the fingers and their touch
and the promise of forever,
in Arizona.
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