The playa stretches out to meet the sky,
its framing ranges shimmering as fire.
The soil’s disconsolate, without desire.
No green relieves the all-consuming dry.
At salt flat’s crackling center, there she stands
surveying tops of ridges far removed.
Her deepest fears her solitude disproves.
She wants no other heart, nor eyes, nor hands.
But still a nagging want infests her heart
that some wild beast would saunter into view;
The eyes that scan for fear of something new
scan just as hard for fear of life apart.
Go to that desert valley, there you’ll find her.
And I — wild beast — wait patiently behind her.
March 15, 2006
