Deserted

In our minds we
swim still, we
use our legs and arms
and love the feel of
silken water on
our skins.  We look
out from the cave as the
sun goes down each evening
over the towering sands
and we remember  water here,
a vast inland sea
emerald beauty
cool and clear
where now there is none, and our
tongues are swollen our
mouths  gritty
and our skin and hair
never free of itching grains.
In our minds we
swim still, there was
water here.  We left our
figures on the wall, in
ochre paints, in poppy
red, to tell people
the truth about
the desert, with its
dry and dusty
winds.

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