You taught me how to live without the rain.
You are thirst and thirst is all I know.
You are sand, wind, sun, and burning sky,
The hottest blue. You blow a breeze and brand
Your breath into my mouth. You reach—then bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
You wrap your name tight around my ribs
And keep me warm. I was born for you.
Above, below, by you, by you surrounded.
I wake to you at dawn. Never break your
Knot. Reach, rise, blow, Sálvame, mi dios,
Trágame, mi tierra. Salva, traga, Break me,
I am bread. I will be the water for your thirst.
Because I’ve forgotten the geography of a woman’s shoulder, how hard
and brittle in places, how supple and stemlike in others.
Because my desire alone isn’t enough for both of us.
Because if I showed her the stars at night, she might see them as
nothing but light cracking through a frail wall, and I’d have no words to