“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.
The New Word is a poetry submission column. Poems should be no more that 300 words, with a maximum grouping of three related poems. Before submitting, please make sure every word has been considered and the poem has been edited to the very syllable, to the rhythms of each sound and step. firstname.lastname@example.org