don’t lay me down 
under tornado green skies 

but let me dust gentle 
against oceans I’ve never seen 

break my bones into fragments 
and mosaic them into mountains 

of granite and coal to build 
into steel for cities 

make me into marble floors 
of foreign manors 

or broken windows in abandoned 
factories no longer turning 

muscle and sinew into machine 
scatter my teeth like birdseed 

let me feed the robins 
and the crows alike 

give my cells to sing light 
into the lines of new hands 

trace the eyes of fresh faces 
and save my heart only 

for the red earth 
and the wild winds   

Gary Reddin grew up in Southwest Oklahoma among the cicada songs and tornado sirens. His writing was born in this dissonance. He holds an MFA from Lindenwood University. His work has most recently appeared in Cathexis Northwest Press, Oklahoma Today, and Bright Flash Literary Magazine. His book “Quantum Entanglement” is forthcoming from Mouthfeel Press in 2023. He can be found online @andrewreddin on Twitter.