this weather undoes me.
skin unzipped by air as warm as blood
thick pulsing with desert journeys
it does not speak my boundaries.
it is boundless karoo skies
that sing below my sternum.
somewhere days ago
part of me rushed mountain ranges
gathered buchu stink and
pelargonium in my hair
that became restio and dune-grass
pushing for the blistering shore.
if i had tympanic temples
that could pull membrane tight,
taste air pressure on my
flicking adders tongue
i would be waiting for your fingers
to drum across my being
ready for thunder
that will come pouring
across folded limb
and hip curve hills