The Gobi Desert Cycle-HAIR


This is a cycle of love poems I am working on. This is the fist one in the cycle. Hope you enjoy!


The sand gets caught up in his hair every once in a while, like white marble castles drifting on seas of dark evergreen


he brushes it  off. Always it is night there, a perennial obsidian coffin, buried with incense. The light  cannot escape it.

it’s curve is

forever a hushed daughter’s keepsake, kept in place and twisted horribly all at once.  Hush, she whispers, fingers


each strand like a horse’s mane. He is a quiet warrior, like a sleeper who is not talking,


through the silent grass. A bridge echoes through the dark waterfall of  the daughter’s mind;

it breaks

evenly, vertebrae by vertebrae, slowly cracking, each piece of it’s  driftwood crashing into the open mouth of the  river:

she drowns

but she doesn’t know it yet.

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry


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