The world is…
The world is a waterless white expanse.
Abandoned cities stand as termite mounds,
Hubs of gulley networks lined with salt.
Beetles make homes where no humans roam.
Scorpions tiptoeing track tiny dimples.
Lizards scurry about as if electrocuted.
The wind whistles through honeycomb ruins.
Tiny tornadoes raise their fists.
Hot dust puffs like gun smoke.
We walk among windswept dunes of ash.
We quarry for light and dig for springs.
We tap at stones and ask for mercy.
We water ourselves to water the world.
Originally published in Blue Heron Review, Issue 3 (Winter 2015)
|Bolivia Salt Desert|