War Paint

dust clouds replace the drowsy drone of interstate 80     can’t wait to sink soul deep into wet moss     fire-side cry of “hey there, city girl”     when my car stumbles in later than i like     my sisters’ fingers lantern glowing with crushed beetles     baptized again     queen come home for battle with black bears and berry bushes     war paint for a high priestess of this pine land     wrap me back up in roots for the summer     until the last melon falls heavy on its vine     let me wade ankle deep in this cold creek bed until the end of august     let all the stations give me nothing but a country twang     crack of tent poles     sister, turn off your phone     we’re all hungering together     strawberry wine coolers     aluminum pans as plates     hot spoons on bug bites     this place is still haunted by breathless rain     but we have untold gnats     ready to become green and orange cheek stain