El Cosmico

dust devils staggering random
zombie wanderers prone

to sudden collapse overcome by
the pointless

stop sign on Madrid
hums a two note chord

The tents shudder in the wind; one time

it carried all the little ones off
who knows where

the wind stacks all
the clouds along the horizon

leaving daylight plain as yes and no, drier
than reason

today I’m sick of my thoughts
if that’s what you want to call this grinding noise

I’d rather listen to the cattle bellow
I’d rather walk all day in the silent

continuous explosion of light      bleaching
the dusty weeds

I’d rather watch my escort of casual vultures
peel off, rising to invisibility

they too
are probably sad: they think
I won’t die today

a long way across the plain mountains
rise from a low wreath

of dust. Last night we were up there
in the starry dark

through the smallest telescope I saw
two galaxies, tilted disks

bright as water
twelve million light years away

Martha McCollough is a writer and videographer who lives in Chelsea, Massachusetts. Her videos have appeared in TriQuarterlyRattapallax, and El Aleph, and prose poems in the journal small po[r]tions. She is a member of Atlantic Works, a co-op gallery in East Boston, and works as a graphic designer.