I paint swaths of canyon colors.
Reds and oranges illuminate my canvas
and burn into stretched linen.
Red rocks flame the way my cheeks reddened
when I stumbled upon firedrakes spewing
sharp toothed words, untempered words
swollen with barbed tongues.
How, I ask, can you say all
when you haven't met all?
Orange arches stretch, widen their span
in my presence. I stand underneath
nourished by the silence of stone,
by their patience.