You wrapped me in the fast moving clouds
of a desert storm
a rapturous gloom that fell with aspen randomness
across postured granite
lingered in the cracks and contours
of familiar wounds
you’ve learned to dance
like all water does around its suitors,
with the promises of fingertips
and our tangled, damp bed of roots
and scattered leaves
I climbed and climbed and settled
into the coldest, thickest part of you.
Yasmeen Najmi
copyright 2010 Yasmeen Najmi
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