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~ 

A-n:nie Perron 

Bisbee 

Silver shines, blue-black slips glinting Mule Mountains. 
Old mines yawn empty holes in the hills. 
Slip, they carve the terraced sides of Lavender Pit, 
cutting copper and shading their eyes to the thunderheads. 
Bisbee, these houses bloom white and 
the streets slip past the hillsides. 
The sky has watery eyes. 
The streams speak blue 

down the mountains, 
they dream through these stony cliffs. 
Roads shine everywhere, half 

cut - half 
paved 

they flirt the skies with coyote, 
and the wind 

blows my hair long enough 
to tangle in yours. 

5 




