Poetry by Travis Cravey
The pronghorn, skittish, dodge over the other side of an arroyo. My rifle never left my side. Thinking of you, I lost sight of why I was there. You don’t walk through the grassland of New Mexico for pleasure, after all. I don’t think of you for any other reason. New Mexico has its purpose and can keep it. I put my sad, slumped shoulder to mine.
Travis Cravey (he/him) is a maintenance mechanic in Southeastern Pennsylvania. He is an editor with @malarkeybooks and @versezine. He’s happy to show you his stories if you’re interested. He’s on twitter (@traviscravey) if you want to. This poem was published with permission from the poet. The poem first appeared on Cravey's personal Twitter account.