Thursday, June 21, 2012

The desert people are gaunt
with gnarled joints,
cheekbones like flint,
and eyes that glitter from dark recesses;

they move loose and disjointed
like Rocinante
over hard baked caliche,

peering like yellow-eyed birds
into the sun,
heads tilted with half-formed questions,

moving forward
through the shimmering air.

Their pursed lips,
white and alkali,
shape no sounds
- part only for slack-jawed exhalations.

With skin burnt brown
and crackling
(like suckling pigs)

they trudge ever onward,

burning through themselves
like cord wood

into the blast furnace of the searing sun.

No comments:

Post a Comment