The Desert

Streaks of colour building the image – a memory
Of shadow and light, time skitters back on itself
And I am lost once more… in the desert
Dark hills on the horizon and grit in my eyes
There are clouds scudding but no respite from a Thunder Sun
My head is already splitting, tongue swollen, lips cracked…
A smell of decay – ripe, fresh, rank, bitter and sweet
Sickly rancour or a carcass swarming with flies
A moment when I almost did not survive – but I did
And now the desert haunts the minds eye
A dreamscape I can never leave – the land claimed me
Streaks of streak of streaks… time and sand.

Posted: Wednesday, July 7th, 2021 @ 10:00 pm
Categories: Poems.
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