Dry Spell
Once upon a pre-dawn
twilight peeked into little
lagoons staccato marching
drummed in dimpled peach
skin—now legato, snow
ski stripes slithering from
my feet: snakes with onyx for
eyes (venomless).

I used to think in complete sentences.

the sky was worn
like jean shorts; it frayed at
the horizons, color bleaching
blue to rusty white sucked
to the bone, parched—my
throat; my voice baked
into my jean shorts (whistles
only come through skulls) half
buried in dunes, the tide under
arrest still drowned me.

not biting dust, but kissing sand

when i drew the water up to
lick my lips. stumbles upon
an oasis that shines like mermaid
scales, like stars in their eyes and
they taught me to swim; swim again
i'm among the pearl divers. the color
lives here, a wellspring deep
down, we tapped it and bathe in
a fountain: the spectrum.

i remember how to hold
my breath keep my eyes
open in the sting to polish
the siren song and write
my own part.