I walk, head down, careful footing as I
study the terrain, the way the shadow
from the mountains cover the valley floor
the dry wash beds, marked with
wildlife tracks, deep and desiccated
no monsoon to wash them away
no relief, no rain to fill these
empty washes, to water this
wilderness that lies dry, parched
the cloudless sky above hides nothing
except for the desert creatures
absent in the heat of the day
as I retrace my path, I step around a gila monster
sunning himself on a rock, his rock
reminding me where I am
I am a trespasser; this is all their’s
and their tracks and presence remind me
step carefully, move slowly, retreat
She received him like a warm bath
He felt like he just got born
What did you say
I felt like I just got born
Take off your hat
No put it back on again
No take it off again
Scrubbing their respective privates with a dry wash cloth
Fires ablaze in those nether regions now
They are spacing out on one another
There is nothing like the sound of a bird chirping
Outside the window of a stranger
To measure the weight of quiet horror
You will call me
She said that like a question
What did you say
You said that like a question
Take off your clothes
No put them back on
No take them off again
Your smell is on them
What did you say