by Reid Wilkie
“I will give you space,” he said.
“I wouldn’t disturb you,” he promised.
We could drive into the desert and hold the
Sand between our bodies.
We could bathe in the sun and melt our skin
We could dive between the boulders and crash
Our bones to powder.
We could lie face down, a mile apart, and
Breathe the dust through our lungs.
We could move in silence with our shadows
At our side and touch each other’s fears.
We could climb above the relentless
Heat and cool our desire with thought.
We could dig deep beneath the desert’s
Face and search in vain for her mind…
“It’s not space I need,” I replied.
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