[media-credit name=”B Alvarius” align=”alignnone” width=”640″][/media-credit](For Kim)
Her letter drifted across an empty sky,
a night shadow dragging its feet behind
a wandering cloud. Striations on the walls
of arroyos mark the arid years since we,
muddied in erotic torrents of cloudburst,
felt new roots suck each tender drop, blush
of new life erupting in passionate colors,
before vagrant dust filled every hollow footprint,
left smooth, dry surfaces like unstroked flesh.
Cool now, a breeze of her voice from the stillness,
a kind moisture urging dormant life to emerge,
knowing such tender shoots rarely survive
the desiccating sun, in night’s dark forgiveness
a soft-lipped moment reaches up for the moon.