Looks like you could climb into its lap
and disappear. The stark blue arcs down
to meet brown desert, yellow-bloomed chollas
and all the room you need to breathe.
Feathery fringes of clouds —
a single breath could suck them up.
If this blue haze were liquid
I would be drunk with lapping
Maril Crabtree’s poetry has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, most recently I-70 Review, Persimmon Tree, Third Wednesday and the anthology Begin Again (Woodley Press, 2011). A Pushcart Prize nominee, she has two chapbooks, Dancing with Elvis (2005) and Moving On (2010) and is Poetry Co-editor for Kansas City Voices.