Tag Archives: Gallup

Raven

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

Raven is a kicker.
He loves to have fun—
nose dives in the sky,
rides the sixty mile an hour winds,
sliding over the Santa Fe railroad
coming from California
and over highway 40
as the semis roll by.

Raven loves to make someone his joke—
sneaks up on his buddies
and scares them to death.

Smart old cuss too.
I saw him flying
with a pop can in his beak,
heading west toward Gallup.

He’ll do well.
They pay seventy cents a pound.

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Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry

Boogieman

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

He’s not behind the door
or under your bed,
yet,

but in the school
and down the road.

He rapes,
kills,
and eats children.

Oh, yes, Virginia,
there is a boogieman.

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Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry

Two Watchers

a photograph by Sonja Bingen

Between Gallup, New Mexico and Continental Divide is a place known as Red Rocks Park. Here red sandstone rises into blue skies spring, summer, winter, and fall, looking out at the land with the almost-not-moving patience of cliffs and earth.

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