From Dust ‘Till Dawn

clouds crawl steadily
over your limp form; cracked & chipped
after the dismal desert storm —
it seems like yesterday
has not happened in ages

plastered to the dry dirt, transfixed
by a hyena’s lullaby
you wilt & wait
for forceful hands
to push you deeper

through clotted lips you conjure
a string of allurement, no wider than
a hair’s breath —
but sturdy enough
to get tangled up in.

you never intended
to drown alone.

After the Storm

in the weary calm
after the storm
it is time
to get moving again.
pick up
the pieces,
pick your entrails
off the floor
clean them
and put them back
where they belong.

i think
i will
take a few minutes,
smoke a cigarette
and stare at this mess,
at the intensity,
before
i get the broom
and declare it
over and done with.