The Last Song

how can you stand it
he said
the hot Oklahoma summers
where you were born
this humid thick air
is choking me
and i want to go back
to new mexico
it is the only way
i know how to breathe
an ancient chant
that my mother knew
came out of a history
woven from wet tall grass
in her womb
and i know no other way
than to surround my voice
with the summer songs of crickets
in this moist south night air
Oklahoma will be the last song
i’ll ever sing