Burnt-brow and singed,
If not tiredly, broken entirely down,
My unhinged bravado’s tucked into itself
Like a llama’s laundry—
As shadows draw away
From moonshine aglint on unsturdy shelf,
Where I’ve hidden you
‘Midst my sin-and-sundries.
That I didn’t hope-is-this-love-you;
‘Tis a dirty lie
If someone said I might lose my way
To the waters of honor-due.
You forgot your way to me
And for a far-simpler thirst:
A mirage-of-more, some false oasis—
Because I’d already sought in you
That awhirl-and-gritty dream,
‘Stead of succumbing to the curse
Of its dust-smothered mem’ry.
Still, doesn’t mean I can’t find you in the swirl,
Though the winds wage a whip-sway
‘Gainst the ream
Of parched-paper I’ve written
To warn that mad-haboob away;
I would, e’en lost to dune-astray,
Wish, to my bone-brittlest day,
That you’d’ve stayed
To wade this quicksand with me.