seldom have I let myself collapse
into the patient lap
of a woman who loves me.

seldom have I lay quiet,
my head resting on her thighs
at the end of day
when it is all too much.

there is a passage between the rocks
in the high desert
where the late sun lights the way

I am climbing alone,
above animal bones,
to get through

wandering to a pathless quiet.
ready for cold stars
curled on sand and rock.

but there I dreamed a woman
dancing in celestial night
finding me in the barrens of my own strength

her blanket
already warm.

her fingers
silent
through my hair.

Winter 2026