My eyes settle blue on boulders,
on the desert.
She doesn’t know I am here.
She doesn’t know how I watch her,
or how I crawl with
tortoise in patient crawl or
how I soar with her carnivorous
vulture.
She is like woman,
like God
and sperm
and sea
all at once.
Her magic is dry and alive.
What is
to hate is to love.
She acts like death
but her surface is in force.
Her dry stomach spreads thin.
Her hot mounds curve Earth.
Her treasured liquid leaks from
her spike covered fruit.
She is dangerous.
She does not fear exhausted corpse’.
She swallows inside out,
spits it out and keeps it
for company
and when buzzards come
and when flies come
and when suns change course
she will suck dry
hard bones
deep within her sand
burying them
in her desert forever.