Desert thirst

 I spent the better part of Sunday attempting to write a Decima as described and prompted at naming constellations. I won’t even begin to say that I succeeded as I’m still not even sure I did it right. What a struggle. Today’s poem is the Sunday Poetic Bloomings prompt: Water, water, water. Or no water at all.


parched love
a hazy mirage of baby’s breath—

my desert sanctuary,
liquid silver

on wounded lips, raw cheeks
rough on my lone lonely heart.
eyes too blind

to see the shifting art—
sidewinder paintings,
sun-scorched passion,

jeweled tribal veils
snapping in the wind.

I draw
baskets of water
from the arid oasis
drinking the mirage
of our love.

Poetic Bloomings Prompt 59


Speak to me of thoughts unspoken.

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