Stolen Blossoms

  by Nadine Lockhart

I am sent to the middle of the desert
where there are some rules and nothing,
except invasive grasses, a few Joshua Trees
I am not allowed to touch. Their roots
spread shallow, spiraling near a surface
of loneliness and granite eroding into sand.

Wind kills the unstable. Fire, drought,
even the idea of thirst sends animals
chewing through protective bark for water.
I gather thick waxy petals at dawn,
taste the salt,its emptiness
prolonged