MOJAVE
My love for you is a Mojave Desert;
Twelve thirsty years without a drop of rain;
Twelve years of trying to decipher whether
You die from heatstroke or from my disdain.
You search for water, or for something living,
But what you find is only a charade:
A Joshua—the tree too dry for giving
Relief from heat, a semblance of a shade.
Who is your guide into the sun-bleached future,
Who cheers you on, for better or for worse?
A grimly-reaping heat-enamored vulture
Attracted to the prospect of your corpse.
And yet, this searing desert cannot start
To melt the iceberg of my frozen heart.
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