there are some places that invite you to pour
yourself into them all sharp rock
and sand and cactus needles glittered
with drops of nectar where horses
are lean and wild and roam the way
they’re meant to whinnying blends
with wind and there’s a toughness
to everything the air tastes like
determination behind the hard
is sweetness the soft flesh of fruit
under a rind mica shining
in the black scales the lizard
sheds after basking at noon
the heat is a second-skin the sweat
turns to clay smeared by fingers
shaped by calluses the desert remembers
that you are 60% water and it will
suck every last drop
dry.