by Kathi Crawford
It thrills me to take in Goldie’s blooms
each morning. Her flowers
the color of champagne—she shines
from the sun’s rays passing through
my office window. Goldie was born
in the desert, so, she is packed
with cactus soil. I admire
her ability to survive in dryness.
In contrast, my body has not taken
to this age of fluid
draining from my veins.
Is plasticity a thing of the past?
The leeching of my bones creates
a seizing of sorts. For now,
I imagine myself on a dirt lane
above Old Woman Springs Road.
Purple-paddled cacti clinging,
baby lizards floating, blue
Joshua trees trotting, and me
in kitten heels strung with lights,
Goldie’s limbs lit by candles.
We sing to former versions
of ourselves. We walk expertly
across the desert.
Kathi Crawford is a writer based in Houston, TX. Her writing has been featured in a variety of literary journals, including BULL, Full House Literary, Flash Frontier, The Argyle, and The Ekphrastic Review. Her chapbook, consider the light, was selected Best Entry, 2024 Finishing Line Press Open Chapbook Competition; running with the beasts is forthcoming. Connect with her on Instagram or LinkedIn @kathicrawford and subscribe to her blog at https://kathicrawford.com/.
January House Literary Journal 
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