Desertification

I know about hot breezes on dry skin,
whispers of valedictions repeated,
despair for rain long since gone,
yr dry leaf clutch desiccated
and clinging -

the white rabbit, pure,
unformed, cold, it's dead
eyes shattered over the floor -

"hang up", I tell you -

arid response of a dry well.
Lizard eyes shut
a water-table withdraws.

Scattering ashes to an empty hole,
a moist gust scurries them away.