like poetry

I move through Canyons

the way a lover slips a hand between closed thighs

pressing, yearning

 

I smell dirt, and flowers, and trees

the way an insurgent smokes his final cigarette, staring down the firing squad

passionately, defiantly

 

I follow the sand-tracks of the soft-footed ones

the way a hungry child makes her way to the kitchen

sniffing, grinning

 

I kneel and drink from the creek

the way a pilgrim finally kisses the cool black stone

reverently, gratefully

 

I dance before the Goddess

the way young lovers first share a bed

awkwardly, earnestly

 

I climb the cottonwood tree

the way a newborn first finds milk

reaching, trusting

 

And I reach for my lover

the way I move through canyons

like poetry

 

 

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