Wednesday, February 25, 2009


Her slow dancing in shadow,
her form cast of fire and shade--
distorted through smoke,
narrow as a snake.

She twists away then
from all men,
for too close a kiss
lost her to wilderness.

He courts a sort of darkness,
his lone voice low, near toneless,
troubled by that old root
trembling in his gut.

I am numb,
by dull time.
What desert
have I crossed
for this thirst?


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