Andy Melton, "Can't wait!", 2008, modified
This land’s been grazed down to loose rock and cipher, hoof-greeking scratched on a path uphill. No angora tufts snagged on nopal, just scat from scrawny cabrito who’ve climbed everything that might’ve held back a mouthful of something green and tender, something mineral and compelling—everything but a slack-line liana of mustang grape, anchored and anchoring a live oak stripped by wilt, beating the goats back to a truce. They doze at the base of the grape in its threadbare shade as it lifts up towards sun-bleached clouds, tendrils coiling, Dionysian ringlets piled atop each other: the Vitis mustangensis blinks open its thousand sleeping eyes to be pollen-kissed by bees.