The last time I saw you
was out a rounded rectangle window
obscured by scratches and a steely wing.
I don’t remember grief, only that
I wanted to escape your Carnival colors,
your concentric circle mazes,
your dust and trash and sadness.
Sadness I do remember—
in moments of awkward conversation
when I at last mumble to the questioner
Minneapolis, Oregon, Lafayette.
All these I claim as mine,
forgetting I was the solitary child of missionaries
in a superstitious and mesmerizing land.
And now for a moment just for a moment
a stranger in this strange state
I inhale deeply and gape into sadness:
snapdragon bushes in a spare courtyard;
cockroach corpse in the corner;
sprawling bright of unbridled sun:
Desert visions of Cruceña landscapes.
Touching down in California—
terra cotta roofs and dusty streets
seen out a rounded rectangle window:
The last time I saw you.
About Dori Elliott
Dori is a first-year MATC student who might be from Oregon, Bolivia or Indiana depending on the day. She hopes to explore the intersections between theatre and healing in her future work. In between Moltmann readings, Dori can be found listening to Poem Talk podcasts, wrangling other people’s children and crafting licentious baked goods.
