By Caitlín Róisín
a film of sweat
washing dry
my lips apart
the heavy uhhhh
oh the heavy limbs
stuck here and here
majesty
blew into my nose
and I tasted
the grey light, also
cotton wound on dust
a warm shape gone
fraying the reeds, horses
snort
kick the day, my toes
brush the wet neck
soiling our land our
dry mountain we
are lead out of the desert
we are sunk onto the coast
low sun
weight-ed sky
there is an arc of dryness
our wheels could click
I watch it part and
wait
wake
the salt licking my lips