Red sands slither over rock. You were once
by the sea, and wet winds blew in faces
staring up among the mesas. The sun
is pale and distant to you now.
Traces
of a disintegrated us, shattered
like tiny glass spiders, we are brittle,
a thousand sand smiles, blankly scattered
like slivers in the dust, indifferent crystal.
Each new love is like this: Under the pull
of the moons, to sway, circled by warm arms.
And you know as you laugh that he is cruel,
the warrior, remote to your vile charms.
Each night I call out your name among stone.
The volcano answers, unmoved, alone.
