29 PALMS ❋ Sari Lightman

The last one, bewildered
abandoned amongst the lesser stocks
longing for seaforthia blooms
a cluster of broad thatch
of mountain cabbage, vegetable ivory

A full moon over
San Bernadino
29 Palms
and I the last drunkard
cumming into your mouth
like Bacchus slouched over a wine barrel

Here, I have everything
these clay coloured mountains
the dormant sage brush and the sun seared chollas
the all night 7-11s and the 24 hour razor fades
29 Palms
my desert dominion

Mid November in Montreal
when the sky is the colour of a purple bruise beneath a sleepless eye
29 Palms await me
shivering like cargo rodents
in my linoleum floor apartment

Lying languid, half dead, like a stem in water
turgid, with a gaze to propagate.
amongst my kingdom of dwarf begonias
and potted jades
geranium leaves, wilting like old lettuce

29 Palms await me
my face pressed against the frozen window
to the back alley of lumber store sukkahs
and the piles of weekly garbage
still waiting to be collected