Fire Branded within my eye,
the sky 
	with guts
		and evening bats,
they flutter mildly,
      	stalking caverns,
pelting winds 
   	of wings and
		breezes,
         		molten sneezes
snatching breath
from death.

It haunts
the Navajo
	and wolf
		and other species
in the proof
   	of where we were
      		and where the trail could lead.

(c) 1996 Oliver Smith