Cyanotype, acrylic on muslin, 12” x 36”, Unframed

Seasons of Dust

By Elizabeth Rieman

death the awakener

the alien mother

who spat you out—

and each subsequent,

sly mug—who cut

& pasted you

grief compels this urgency

to honor the gifts

for a time

obliterated

by the twilight’s gleaming

hot gulf sun

to honor the gifts

to flower

the seasons red

earth, the bed—

snow will come

comforting

then

squeeze your eyes shut

to catch the squirming

orb, neon blue