Feral Heart

Feral Heart

Somewhere between
the great canyon
and the cacti
he confessed
he could not love her.

Somewhere between
the prickly pear
and a crumbling earth
Her shaky voice replied,
“I’ll be just fine.”

Now she is wild
like the desert,
feral as a
coyote’s cry;
knowing there’s
little distinction
between the
plight of hunger
and the fight
of heart.

Alpha Omega

Alpha Omega

He only exists
beneath the plane
of her fingertips,
below the trail
of her parted lips.
All else is vapor.
All else is mist.