When I first tasted your skin

It was covered in water.

Remember water?

It was hard to describe but it was free.

Lakes are craters even now.

A child asks who pulled the drain plug as you drive by.

There is deep sadness in the retreating water, a reluctant

path of tears sinking into the dust,

searching for an oasis to nourish, water looks down

and sees it’s vanishing.

Cries out to the lone red bird

perched on a burnt tree,

cries out to the cactus who needs no one, cries out to

you and me who have forgotten water already.