Heather T

mirage

he is desert wanting

weeping grains of sandsong

that thirst through cracked fingers

stirring mirage trances

to draw sighcastles parched

on tips of tongue

 

in dreamtime oasis

I dive those storms

and ride his thunder

chilled for seethe of fever

gulping bolts of singewater

grateful for the burning

 

greening drought blooms

succulents for taking

this mesmerist of mesas

sidewind glances sinuous

shimmerdancing perihelion

with the rise and ebb of dune

.......................

in the cool night

a woman rattles

and coyotes moan

his dusty ghosts