“Nowhere Near”

By Anna Harberger


The land seemed to be green and bleeding

when it circled our chariot.


Arms, legs extended

as to caress the steaming gray

carved out by father and son.


I felt guilty

when the August wind rocked the spears, arrows, swords

that pierced her back,


and when I noticed

her blood was blackened brown, and

began clotting at the base of her wounds—

hidden, though, amidst the verdant sea.


It only ever happened once.

The two of us.

Chaos and crying to taste

the muffled hymn of the Pacific.