figures on welding irons

 

did you ever make it out to Montana
where the mountains are in a fever of their own cold,
the ground is scarred,
people are hard too
and the sun falls like a nuclear device falling, rises
as set on fire sage
I may sound angry about the place
which resembles the moon's backside
only the moon's warmer
Sarah is through with me and's
gone where the rocks and earth are cracked
she says forever