Caprock
Because the sky’s so big
you can watch the earth curve
away from it,
and because farmers grow their own crop circles,
and Friday night stadiums
can be seen for fifty miles
on a clear night,
and the nights are almost always clear.
Because the land splits,
pushes up at Quitaque
into the open spaces—
because the break in the earth
is red there,
red as a coyote’s innards,
the exposed space between
ageless ribs, laid out alongside Highway 86
northbound.
Because the bones
of my people and the horses they rode,
and the cattle they raised
and the homes they lived in
are scattered under
a sky unbroken.
Jennifer deBie is a novelist, poet, and native Texan currently transplanted to Ireland for her schooling. She was born and raised in the town where Johnny met June, but is much more interested in the local serial killer that was never caught.