- NIGHT SAND
When you injure me, as you must one day,
I will move off like the slow armadillo over night sand,
ambulating secretly inside his armor,
ready to burrow deep or curl himself into a ball
which will shelter his soft head, soft feet
and tail from the heavy, rhythmic blows.
Now can you see the silhouettes of ranchers’ hats
and stick raised against the pick desert sky?