Lily’s lips are slack, fallen flower petals. They wither and crinkle and crack as she thinks of words to say but there’s nothing left here in the desert. Nothing can fill the dry emptiness sucking away the water sleeping beneath her skin. She feels herself cracking, a porcelain doll, a section of sidewalk, the memories of Selene in her mind.

A coyote sits and waits for Lily to breathe her last and watches her through eyes that are the night she used to be. He sits with his ears back and he sings his high-pitched songs through mangled vocal cords. And Lily can only watch him through tired eyes that are sticky with dryness and burn in the constant sunlight.

The two live beneath a cactus, its limbs broken and crooked as it claws at the sky. Its fingertips touch Lily’s back when it curves too far and wakes her up again. They’re all broken here, hungry, hot, and alone.

Still some days Lily feels like singing. She remembers the curves of the moon in the sky, the singe of stars gleaming through the night, the dust tails of comets crisscrossing before her eyes. She thinks of Selene and the softness of her skin, the shine of her hair, her pomegranate lips. And it’s so hard to swallow down the songs that scratch at her throat. Some days she finds it in herself to hum and Coyote’s ears twitch as he listens, his eyes wet and wistful and light-years deep. There’s always hunger in his eyes.

--

Coyote’s velvet ears twitch as he sleeps. They shake away flies that swarm around them, ready to lay their eggs. Lily’s skin crawls at the feel of their tiny legs touching sweat damp skin. The thought of being eaten alive by their offspring shoves her to want to live just a little longer. Coyote’s ribs heaving as he breathes in the sweltering heat makes her consider dying. Selene dancing in her dreams coaxes her along. But still she somehow stays alive.

Long legs kicking at the sand, Coyote dreams. Long high-pitched whines leak from his muzzle to stain the air with sad songs. The flies buzz above him, scattered and then gathering once more in his dusty fur. Lily’s fingers creep forward and wave the flies way once more. Her fingers shiver above Coyote’s fur.

Fear constricts around her, this sudden closeness after going so long without contact with a body that doesn’t hurt. She wants to pull away from the soft heat of Coyote’s body, but presses a hand to the lumps of his rubs instead, feels his breath shoving from his lungs, his heart beat pulsing beneath his skin. Selene dances on the other side of her eyelids when she blinks – Selene pale and naked in the moonlight, drenched in the light of the pregnant moon above.

Lily rests her head against the earth below her, as dry and cracked as her body feels. With one hand on Coyote’s back, she closes her eyes, feels the flies landing on her skin, but strength deserts her. Those tiny legs touch her red rose skin and she and Coyote sleep.

--

When she wakes, Coyote’s still sprawled on his side and the sun is still high in the sky. There are no clouds in sight. There’s no pale smirk of the moon. Lily’s hand leaves Coyote’s back to touch the dirt between them and the dust settles into her lifeline, smudging it out of existence. She sits up and wipes her palms clean on the skin of her thighs.

Her back touches the claws of the cactus and after the softness of Coyote’s body, she welcomes the pain to chase the illusion of comfort away.

The sun climbs higher in the sky and Lily can feel it searing into her head. Her tongue touches her lips that flake beneath her prodding. There are traces of Selene’s name on her lips, on her tongue, in the back of her throat that built up as she slept. She tries to whisper them away, but they cling desperately and settle in the tight spaces between her teeth.

Images of Selene are still fresh and blooming in her mind. Lily sees her twirling across the veins on the insides of her eyelids. When she opens her eyes, Selene is still there, dancing on the horizon. Her body shimmers in the sun, waving and beckoning.

Lily stands on legs that don’t feel like her own. Her bare feet carry her over sleeping Coyote and away from their cactus home. The sand is hot against the bottoms of Lily’s feet and she walks quickly, Selene smiling at her from afar. Desperation claws at her throat, forming the round shape of Selene’s name.

She thinks of words to say but all that comes is the hoarse shout of, “Selene!”

Sand screams down her throat, into her lungs, burrowing into her bloodstream and her knees touch down on the hot ground.

Selene.

And she fades in the distance into a pool of water, just another mirage to taunt Lily here in the desolate desert.

For the first time in days, she feels moisture on her cheeks, salty and gritty.

Selene.

For the first time in days, she feels moisture in the palm of her hand and she looks down to find Coyote with his wet nose pressed against her lifeline, ears back, head down. She sees stars in his eyes, a crescent moon in his smile.

She presses their heads together and his fur is soft against her sweating skin. She wants to get swallowed. She wants to get lost in the galaxies in his eyes. She wants to see the moon. Any moon will do. Selene.

Coyote whines low in the back of his throat and his tongue touches Lily’s tears. She stands beside him, fingers buried in his pelt. Words blossom on her tongue and she spits them out and together they sing the saddest songs the desert’s ever known.

Side by side they walk to the horizon, to the water shivering their beyond their reach. There’s wholeness in Lily’s chest, aloe upon her skin. Coyote walks in time with her, tail swinging side to side and brushing the back of her legs. They’re both broken here, hungry, hot, and together.

--

Behind Lily and Coyote, light-years away, the moon crawls into the sky.

End.

Was bored and angry after my astronomy exam the other day and had nothing else to do but write.

I'm guilty of really liking the name Lily. And coyotes. And stars.