Parched 
 poem


I am suddenly awake
- hot, dry, bothered -
laying on my back, legs and arms strewn
across the matress;
fingers and toes outstretched,
blindly searching through the heavy emptiness
for wild strands of fine long hair;
listening into the static solitude
for moist, shallow breaths
of your dreaming.

I have kicked the sheets over on to the floor.
My tongue lays thick like a wad of tissues
behind pasted lips;
eyelids flicker and brush top lashes
with bottom, never
breaking the seal between.
I grasp the water bottle and
spray coolness across my face and into my mouth,
feeling the mist as far as my navel.

A drop condenses upon my cheek, carefully
flowing through the bristly curve
of my jawline, drawn
like a tear to the small salty pool
at the nape of my neck.
Outside, white noise of raindrops,
sounds like the moist, shallow breaths
of your dreaming.