dibáá’ nishtj
A poem of us would begin without words dried for decades in the desert Each cracked rock, red bit of sand and petrified bone were laid as they were thought describing what they couldn't
That tiny wind polished stone there held volumes on a breath just behind your neck The flecks of bentonite shine a bit of your salt sun splayed from every ocean spray across the globe Sidewinder tracks smooth perfect curves as you move unknowingly across my mind
There is no water
Every plant and creature holds close the drops of life that are wholly in your being Cactus, gnarly and spined, bow and flower at your color's choice The versatile and cunning coyote roam without a desert master but their tails curl under for your whim
Wind is the sand's whisper chords reverberating within your chest Night descends with a dry silent chill holding still for life's reprieve and rejoice It is your day's last kiss before our eyes dream and dance
A Tiger Rattle's bite and the Bark scorpion's sting remind the living, in a pointed fervor that liveliness is the only deserving course for our veins
Brittlebush jot the landscape yellow calling me to pull them and get them out There is the Gambil's Quail, a Black Rail the Roadrunner, and Gilded Flicker grounded or flying they make the desert thrive with beauty and feather
And finally, standing firm centuries on end, the Joshua Tree Here, at its trunk, is a parchment scorched and split in two A poem is written on it.
"I am the desert, the living and worth within is you"
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