I Her wrinkles are not elephant skin They are the ocean She's a river in my rocky dreams Her German face sun-soaked wind-blown hair drunken hips sway Speaking calm, sometimes a child when a student answers a question right Drawing blanks as she thinks of an English term, it comes, it rolls off her tongue flows through the air If she backs up any further she'll run straight into the chalkboard II She's dancing with the natives again A face lighted gold Her own canvas tent among straw huts cross-legged by the fire eating wild pig III Sitting barefoot in white sand arms folded against her breasts brown back a spear as hard as rock Behind this Samoan chief blue desert of water I stand at her side a thirsty dog IV I was climbing with you up Mount Everest held together by a long strong rope Your body bold and polished I floated over dirt and rocks watching
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Warren Wedin warren.wedin@csun.edu