Where the Desert Sleeps
I knew the miles
before the markers, I found the west
by walking with the sun. I said,
there are lizards in my blood,
there is sandstone in my teeth.
I said, I am the light's daughter,
I am a cactus wren.
This is my home among the thorns.
I said to trees, to starlight,
I said to graves and streets and men,
and you said,
Girlchild, I live too far out in the desert.
I whispered into corners, I wove into
papyrus: I am the light's daughter,
I am a cactus wren,
I raised my hand from lifetimes of loving,
