Powdered bones and mirage have turned my face away. This heat, these lines, intersecting ahead and behind my sun crawl. Pale, then red to bronze, now brown Blistering, peeling inside out and beyond The dunes, sidewinders, mountains perpetually unreachable, teasing me with safer shadow. Back skeletal, knees sand papered down to tendon and nerve. I serve the sky, a left over lover long of nail and without time A counter of clouds, a rain dancer on the verge... Of thunder, or death without song.