Postcards From Palm Springs

This poem won Third place in 2-Day Poem Contest 2018

   i. Elvis Honeymoon Hideaway


Everything is pink—the sand at sunset, 

the walls, my tub and its rust, the flowers. 


My bed is also pink, making it hard 

to fall asleep in (even though 

it is very commodious).  


There’s enough bougainvillea to turn 

your heart inside-out like a pocket.

The hummingbirds are industrious,

the retirees play tennis instead of dying. 


            I am the youngest widow here. 

The desert is not for the feckless after all. 


   ii. Joshua Tree National Park


The trees are posing for you

in their matching coifs. 

The cacti all have brush cuts. 


I blanched the pith of a skinned saguaro 

for dinner, a bland meal. I’m getting used to 

dust in my food, the roric ring of my glass.


In order to garden here, failure and parched

hands must transpire. Coyotes are useful

for announcing the almanac’s moons. 


I keep a small mallet in my purse 

for scorpions, just in case. Don’t judge me.  


   iii. Murray Canyon Trail 


A hiker fell into the canyon. From the summit, 

the rescue helicopter looked like a giant dragonfly. 

The dangling gurney was a cocoon. I did not feel well,


vertigo.  When I came to, the sun was an orange life 

jacket floating in an upside-down ocean and 

I asked for your father’s ghost. For the first time,


I regret the Springs. Your aunt is here visiting, 

she will stay until I’m better. Do not worry. 


   iv. Tramway Gas Station


The roofs of this pastel settlement 

are so peculiar, like ramps to heaven.


A wild hamster found me today.

I held it close to feel its frisson, 

the aerobics of its tiny organs. 


I won’t be staying much longer.

I will miss the desert’s bleached hide

                        when I’m gone.