Nothing But Sand
eyes of certain people conjure a desert whose heart is both lonely and on fire
eyes of certain people
conjure a desert
whose heart
is both lonely and on fire
(lonely for rain
that slaps nervously on doors like friends high on drugs
or wails for you, thrashing branches, making the shutters tantrum, in case you forgot to cry out or bang your pots and pans for many days)
whose heart is a pale scorching coal
in the pit after a bonfire
at this time of night when
few flames even bother to whiplash the air
if you meditate on coals, or a flame
maybe
you’ll find your inner light
or your eyes will water
if you walk on coals-
though i’m not qualified to say
i’d bet
you’ll feel like singing
if i get to the desert
i’ll stand where i can see
nothing but sand
even if there is a tree or something past that dune