Jillena Rose

Bones are easier to find than flowers in the desert, so I paint these: Fine white skulls of cows and horses. When I lie flat under the stars in the back of the car, coyotes howling in the scrub pines, easy to feel how those bones are so much like mine: Here is my pelvis, like the pelvis I found today bleached by the sun and the sand. Same hole where the hip would go, same white curve of bone beneath my flesh same cradle of life, silent and still in me.