silently knowing

this field whithers
with bitter embers
scorched by an avid sun

bare drops descend
upon these drying lips
tipped with thirsty groans

colors quite languish
for anguished want
of your infrequent touch

too naively perhaps i
tenuous cling to your
barely spoken branches

brushing the scales
from my dusty eyes
breathing so slowly

there is even now
an unmistakable scent
in the heaving air

the harsh musky odor
of phallic dessication
and carrion wings

Dead Horse Point

Dead Horse Point, Utah