August longing heats
the quiet terrain of solitary bodies.
August longing radiates
cells that ache with thirst,
parched, dry tinder.
Skin, not as tough as bark,
ignites under touch electric.
Stoked and stirred by hot fingers of wind
We burn for days.
We burn for months.
We burn for years.
We are burning now.
Smoldering cores of coal.
Lover’s kisses quench the moment.
Earthy blackberry crushed on lips.
Salty blood-licked thorn-prick.
Callous hands meeting softness.
We smell of cottonwood resin,
of river rock,
We listen intently for the call
of water at twilight.
emit steam, rising.
one and two,
becoming one, then becoming three.
We are multiplicity.
We are transitory.
We are fluid,
playful dreamers frolicking like otters,
our eyes reflect the starry seas of our birth.
We are wounded
the medicine of touch,
Community willing the will–
the will to resist,
to undo violent behavior inherited, learned,
the will to cultivate what does not yet exist.