The Least Space Inhabited
  • The Least Space Inhabited

  • peach nectar spills out
    my hand into
    the silver-tufted desert

    drink

    we could die here of wasps

    but I never wanted safety
    I wanted the edge of property
    to tear open with coyotes

    the fruit inside us is a metaphor for decay
    only the sky is real because it’s not ours

    there are heights from which
    we never land and wings
    fold up around us

    that the desert spreads forever
    that we are afraid and not afraid of the ground

    Adrian Kien

  • 12" x 12"
  • Oil pastel on matboard/wood panel
  • 2012