Alamogordo

Sailing past creosote
planes and of sage hypnotic
in the wind as we skirt
the Tularosa Valley,
where Oppenheimer
evicted so many in
pursuit of a mysterious
power, which ushered
in each of our likely end,
and eastward
immense thunderheads
build over the Mescalero
Reservation lands, yet
another nation decimated
in pursuit of mysterious
power, and at the
roadside rest stop
well dressed women pose,
faces so serious, for perfectly
framed photos drenched in
unreal light as a dust
devil spins itself out and
lightning shatters the
quieting air across the
great many gypsum deposits
washed down from the mountains.

Two rainbows are clear and
bright as paint.

Land is elemental, not made
of disinheritance.