The Desert

There is rain tonight and the earth smells sweetly
Of a steam hot from deep the caves of Baclayon
The wooden boards beneath my feet are dusty
Where our bodies have so long not pressed upon
With sweat and wine, now here it is like the desert
Of the north, the rain evaporates in the air it never
Touches land, never dampens skin, and so I hurt
I ache for that distant drizzle, that cool touch tender
To the cheek, please smear me, graze me with your
Wine, drench away the dust, I will be your whore.

And yet it is true the desert is beautiful it reminds
Of the golden sun after the rain, the sand shifting
Between my toes, white against my sunburnt skin
Pretty, you smile and show me the deep sinking
Lines on your face I see the raw and aboriginal sin
Of a naked carnal beast within a tedious mortal man
Old and tired wanting but old and tired unknowing
Ignorant of the vulgar beauty of woman, a man
That is all mind perplexed of the desires of woman
The desert is a lonely journey, just hold my hand.

Fatima Lasay, San Roque
Sunday, February 8, 2015

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