We own the rocks and walls near Hansen Dam,
where we tell stories with our hands, as though
descendants from the void, dispersed
from sands where hieroglyphics mythicize
the minds of men.
We get there like a pack of wolves,
beyond the grasses and the trees spreading silhouettes
between the midnights of our steps, until the body replicates
a state of ease averse to light that magnifies
the contours of the face.
This is the fellowship that breathes into fraternal scripts,
astute in codes that mine the heart of roots, of hopes,
of reclamations that are never heard,
now bursting into lines, colors, cruising on
the restless rhythms of our hands.
Michael Caylo-Baradi lives in California. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Common, Eclectica, Eunoia Review, Ink Sweat & Tears(UK), Local Nomad, MiPOesias, New Pages, Otoliths, Our Own Voice, poeticdiversity, Poetry Pacific, Prick of the Spindle, and elsewhere. He is an alumnus of The Writers’ Institute at The Graduate Center (CUNY).