Inspired by a visit to Wupatki National Park
|How dry it is,
how thirsty like a brittle sponge.
It wicks my sadness,
sends it skyward like water vapor,
leaches every passion,
pours in zen as sea
of pale-green saltbush
riding weathered, red waves.
Sunlight burns through eye lids,
till I see my veins glow.
Long-dead lava flow crumbles,
heat somehow still radiating
over nine hundred years.
I let it sink in, sip the swelter,