Desert Rain

      

                                          mud seeps
                                                                    between bare toes
                                                        almost naked I walk miles
                                                                                      soaked in desert rain
                                                and catch it with my tongue

                                                                                       laughing as my mother
walks the balance beam of stone walls
                                              while her husband and I point at Catalina cows
        and shout Buffalo, buffalo! and she so nearsighted
                                                             believes us

                               spinning
                                               wrists held tight as Geno soars me
                                                                                                           round &
                                    round
                                                           parallel to the ground

                chimes        bells         ice cr
                                                                   eam delivered by truck
                                                   treasured pink          green
                                                                             yellow plastic dogs
                                                                                            birds
                                                                               tigers buried in
                                           chocolate  strawberry  vanilla to be lipped
                                                                                   licked
                               sucked away

                                                                                                curled like a sow bug
                                                                                laughing
                                                   belly aching as a finger waving in air
                                       tickles as effectively as one would
                                                                                                   touching

Thank you to the editor of Something Like Homesickness for first publishing this poem.

By Elizabeth

elizabethweaver.wordpress.com

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s