Dry Season

dry….my skin, the third week of winter the desert, on a clear day dry….your lips, after a thousand kisses my pockets, while I stood in the rain dry….your heart, after we made love that roast, I cooked one Sunday dry….my eyes, the day you left the garden, where nothing grows dry….my bones, without your flesh the martinis, we made together dry….the humour, we found in our failure the vessel, that held our souls