The Way It's Done

If you would woo me

Be cognizant of altitude,

And the fluctuations of air pressure

When thunder breathes 

Upon the nape of the high pass

And lightning is your tongue.

Take me into the desert.

If you would know me

Memorize the watershed --

Canyon, arroyo, gulley, and creek:

The ages traced in Fortuny silk,

Like the cloud shadows that lie

Forever between us.

To find my heat

Stop and pull over

When the sun lowers itself

Upon the dead grasses

And the blaze can last an hour.

Take me into the desert.

If you would know my sinew

Study the desert crust,

A microclimate accrued

Across a thousand arid nights

As ancient and fragile as hope.

If you would gain my trust

Do not ignore the plummeting

Raven as he falls for that other half

And makes spirals of the prism darkness

For the white light pleasure of it

If you would seduce me

Take me into the desert spin

Incremental odometric pleasures

On my skin as smokey sweet

As the dust plumes rising behind us

On the long road out.

For I am she that waits upon 

The pungent ridge 

The basalt shadow

The firelight

And falls only as hard

As  the last flash flood.