The sun set upon her darkness
Folded with the strands of her
Receding stride and soft erotic gait
   while I
Await the moment of revealed
   intensity

The desert sings
   it sways
      the days
With sage brush bristled
In the spikes of solar time

The sand boils
   it toils on the texture
      of fabric
Dancing with her legs

Native spirits
Lure my gaze
They draw with haunting droplets
Visions
   flooded 
      wide across
The Arizona cross
   of sacrificial loss
      that creeps
         within my youth
And quenches desert bloom
   and budding lust

(c) 1996 James Oliver Smith, Jr