Tuesday, June 2, 2009



For the soldiers

Because I read
the soldiers
cannot carry enough water
to slake their thirst
I stand at my tap
thinking of them
under poundage of kevlar and metal

and me here
in cotton nightgown
barefoot at the sink
palming a moist glass

beyond my kitchen window
watchful yellow eyes
of raccoons huddle
beneath the bird feeder

desert ghosts glide
their dry tongues go begging
under the cool, white moon

No comments:

Post a Comment