It was the cargo train brokedown ahead that stalled us
in Nevada. The buzz & swallow of the power
going off. Red dirt, dust up to ankles along the car-
length of track. Vague human material muted
against the whole air rustle though no visible wind.
The fear of here, a pull toward it,
like the great lake, that stretch with a disappeared
question. All peripheral burning away —
I was having the idea of an experience
desert
everything elemental, so that one might be
prompted to ask of the fates, sight marbling sky
with heat particulate, delirium blue, blink once for
safe passage, twice for I will give you all that you can take.
That the land & the sky can drive us out.
That there can be different degrees of alive.
Hanna Andrews is the author of a book of poems, Slope Move (Coconut Books, 2013) and is the co-founder and editor of the feminist press Switchback Books. Originally from New York, she currently lives in Nevada where she is a Ph.D. candidate and Black Mountain Institute Fellow in Poetry at UNLV.