after almost three decades
of hot summers and
that many tepid winters
i realize 

                               i am my own fire.
        the arsonist of my devotion.


your face is the mirage
crystal eyes magnified by
a relentless desert sun
i want to drink from your lips
nourish myself from
your naked body and
the way it grows for me
you fill me, surface level
only liquid, not too deep
what i need when i am too thirsty
parched because i forgot


                          i am my own fire.
 a symphony of burning branches.
roots unencumbered.