the desert gash
loam and spit
turning ever under
under rock, the gash
but deeper
darker, bluer
the vein
fragile
like webs on wind
droplets like bells,
and warm
invisible height

I know (knew) a boy
buried the wheels of my car
blur by his where his
head was often but its hotter
now, like his bare feet
running from the store
to the car, hotter
his bare feet
in dandelions grazing
over bees in a run,

i am a cistern dry as a pit

but like needles I
scratch the reeling film
of this place I was,
in secret camaraderie
we wet our toes, like
Lazarus we know but don't

and watch for moving rocks