Mount Bonnell (dusk)
spiderweb thread stretched tight
between trees, a liminal space
made habitable, it waves
up & down on the crest of
an invisible tide, a patient
inhale exhale
cicada screaming, party boat screaming,
a girl only half-sarcastic:
“sorry, sunset, I am the star”
(posing).
silhouetted fingers of a pine,
an empty plastic shell of a
water bottle (discarded as if by a growing hermit crab)
tucked into the indifferent arms
of a tree that never sheds.
ink smeared to make shadows,
houses bleeding into lake,
and off in the distance the threat
of clouds thick as mountains,
ripped off the top like cotton balls
stretched.
and on the other shore,
double red eyes of brakelights like
animals, frightened or hungry or
both, sneaking deeper away
into the hills, morse code
through skeleton trees.
a young man gathers the courage to
sink, like sun,
to one knee.
Typewriter Rodeo airs each Friday on Texas Standard. Send us your ideas for a poem on 
