rain approaches from the West
and the dry Earth licks her parched lips
with anticipation of this Whet event.
the dry ground boils and the yellowing
blades lift their gaping mouths to
the sky. her lover moves in slowly
with angry yelps and spittle shouts
lights and fury, a lustful embrace
and soon he will dump himself onto
her waiting flowers. steam will rise
as the cool wet mingles with the
hot and dry of her once supple
bosom. a timeless and deadly
romance from Ancient to Ancient.
i sit and watch his movements. cumbersome.
flailing. untamed. extravagant. and she
bleeds red dust and cracked skin stretches
over exposed roots and taut strands of grassy
hair. he blows a tempest song across her
skin. goose bumps rise and the breath quickens
just as he hovers directly overhead. his
loins pressed heavily on the open air between
them. she reaches upwards and grasps his stormy
head and pulls him down, until the weight of
that cumulus soul suffocates every living thing
inside her. eyes close. mouths meet.
and his downpour is unleashed. morphing
her dry red dust into muddy blood. grasses and
branches hang low and heavy. she is fulfilled again,
as he passes over – the tryst ends. he dissipates
and feels the sun on his back, then vanishes from
her sight. only his muggy scent remains on
her body; thriving. once he is gone, she will rise
stare at the blue sky for a moment, and
change the sheets, alone.