Desert

Dry summer heat made my skin red,

in those three weeks I spent with you..

I wore that sunburn like a badge of pride

My whitewashed Tsalagi skin was warm for a while

with you.

Your hair flew in the desert breeze

deep brown and red flames against the backdrop of deep blue sky.

You laughed, at nothing,

a laugh of pure happiness and knowing this too

was something you may never forget

(I hope you don't).

What we must have looked like

two people overwhelmed with an earthly joy

at being free

flying through the desert

like those eagles we saw, flying above volcanic mountains.

It was so hot that day, I remember,

but I wore a sweater, still

to protect the tattoo I got

a panther with blue eyes.

I'd never seen anything so beautiful

the pale sun glowing through strands

of your flying hair

the sagebrush spotted across barren sand

and mountains in the distance

mountains that I swore

I swore the mountains were

like music, symphonies rising against the sky

and an eagle flew above the volcanic black

keeping pace with

our hearts, I think.

I remember you crawling

on the ground like you had suddenly become twelve again

half of your body in the branches of a bush

sand on your jeans, as you tried to catch

that one little lizard, that probably would have

made me jump, anyway.

I giggled, in my masculine way, and pulled you out

told you to stand

and we went searching for beauty in the rocks

(I secretly prayed that we would find that, and not a snake)

a white marble rock, or a deep amber

I placed a few in my pockets

like they could solidify my memories and

make them permanent.

I told you, standing against some boulder

staring up at the flat top of the mountains

watching over us like giants,

the white cross in the distance

(God's little reminder)

I told you

I never wanted to go back

never wanted any of it

to end.

I felt my longing like the summer heat

in which we stood, together

drawn like magnets

two shadows thrown across

the desert sand,

no space between my silhouette

and yours.

Nothing was ever so beautiful as the desert

and in the best three weeks of my life

we left traces of our joy in the sand.

Ly Hansen