Pima

Eyes of desert night

word/tongue peaches of Arizona

orchards planted by old women

praising as I praise your mouth,

eyes behind shadows.

 

Pima, your beauty touched

I quiver, store woods in a basket

as women store fruit,

and your smiles of autumn

on a bar stool in Brooklyn.

 

You flee via Pan-American

to blooming cactus, silence.

Desert afternoon will fire

your flesh; mine

cools with morning.

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