Vitis

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.