When I get home
and peel
my clothes off
I see how the desert loved me:
random scratches, ocatillo kisses,
yucca piercings, my skin
dotted in angry reds,
I see how the desert loved me:
random scratches, ocatillo kisses,
yucca piercings, my skin
dotted in angry reds,
no-see-'em bites.
On my thigh
On my thigh
in the shape
of a mirthful sun,
of a mirthful sun,
a bruise
inches from the palm-fringed
canyon, where my legs part
in the searing heat.
inches from the palm-fringed
canyon, where my legs part
in the searing heat.
* As published in Red Cedar Review
1 comment:
Omigosh, I can feel the desert heat, reading that poem. You have a way with words... :-)
Post a Comment