Stars skip out over the black branches
of screwbean mesquite, catalyzing
coyotes hungry for a breeze,
a rabbit, each other.
.
I would guide your hand across my body
star to star and between each
we would be one in one space.
If you were here I would,
to hear your breath catch
to taste the desert dust
crushed creosote and wolfberries
and the sweat-salt of hunger
hot on our cracked lips.
I would tenderly swing my body
in an arc as wide as Sonoran horizons
to include all of you in my passion,
quiet as midday, bold as midnight
and strong as both
in joined silence.
.
Creosote blooms leak notes the desert air
hangs all the other notes from
to weld a symphony.
.
orphan poems 