The Red Canyon

The Red Canyon

Heat rises on a dust plain, distorts
wilt-flowers, the dry fauna fading.
My bones warm when your blooms reveal,
soul-heal each limb lit by refracted, amber light.

You offer a lotion-smoothed hand, place
inside a weathered mitt. Exactly
the way I remember the first night,
when you walked upon your father’s stoop.

Your gait, still easy. I lack amble function.
We walk the length of a solid porch. Our haven,
shade where we rock, glide side-by-side
in silence, in knowing, all though these years.

A moment arrives so perfect, I kiss you.
Any flashback since the day I was born
couldn’t compare, witness your arriving joy,
like the cicadas, tremor from invigorated rest.

You stand to refill our lemonade.
My hand brushes the soft underside
of your boot-cut denim. I beg, “Please,
don’t be long,” grinning like the boy.

With sunsets as red as wood-glow fire,
in our cayenne canyon of soaring rock,
time eternal to the vortex clock. Sky
washes starry-black on the bedroom porch.

No hunger for dinner tonight, wrapped in
silk linen. The sandalwood aroma drift
encircles cooling limbs entwined, when
I hear tender beating beneath breathing.

You cradle a tender man, soothed.
Stolen glances absorb calm of irises, color
sunrise, renew these pale eyes. Fuel,
the warmth of that hand, heating a soul's canyon.

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Imagine many years from now in dry heat of Arizona, I’ll put boots up, she’ll drop capri-wrapped sticks atop, idle in our solitude. After all the years, having spoken all that need be said, transmissions eternal will send between two sated hearts via quieted souls.

1st Place Winner July, 2024