The deepest lake dried up
millenniums ago. Stand at its edge
in windblown dust and watch
dinosaurs crash across the land.
Pterodactyl flies thirsty for water.
It’s a memory then too.
A mirage, like God, seated
cross-legged in a desert, huge
bowl of rainwater in his lap.
Grand Canyon without the miracle
of river to cut clean into Earth.
Carved rock gapes, a parched throat
sending echo into sky
when a baby cries for milk.
I fall like shadow in this place.
Desolate but for beauty
and without reason. The mind’s implications
vacate where I cast my spell.
I struggle to serve lunch
to my child, whose talk thunders
like a distant storm.
I rise to see the lightning bolt.
Teems of water wash that far-off place,
and I long to drown.