Kanab

The blood of the gods has left me,
	drips on the face of the cliff,
green scrub break through red dust,
	toadstool hoodoos hover on the horizon.

I am blue like my beloved, 
	breathless,
tracking the dried traces of dinosaurs
	on hills made sacred by their death.

My hand rests,
	small in the awkward depression,
surrounded by even smaller stones
	arranged by earlier pilgrims.

My eyes return to the idea of life
	sempiternal,
frozen in stone, trapped in tar pits,
	drawn on dark walls of even darker caves.

The wolf-moon calls out my name,
	and I know then, in some past or future time,
my double exists, defying the limits of life,
	singing the great green song of possibilities.

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Shaheen Dil was born in Bangladesh and lives in Pittsburgh. Her poems have been widely published in literary journals and anthologies and nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Dil has published three collections of poetry: Acts of Deference (Fakel 2016), The Boat-maker’s Art (Kelsay Books 2024), and Letters to My Younger Self (Gyroscope Press April 2025). She holds a B.A. from Vassar College, a Master’s degree from Johns Hopkins University, and a Ph.D. from Princeton University. Additional information is available on her website: https://shaheendil.com.