Emily Withnall
Where I’m From #18
By Emily Withnall
Originally published in High Desert Journal
Inspired by George Ella Lyon
Claret cup cacti announce themselves in everything I write. This surprised me at first, but it shouldn’t have. I’ve been pierced more than once by their spines. When in bloom, tiny vermillion bouquets dot the dry ground. They are everything I aspire to be.
Papa bartended at Sipapu ski lodge. The lodge looked like it had been built in another century. Only locals skied there. Black widows lurked in the bathrooms, scuttling around the puddles left by wet ski boots. We played Pac-Man…
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