heatstroke

After a fortnight's journey,
I arrive in the desert.
Arms spread open to greet her,
To embrace the Sahara.
"Come, come!
Lay with me."

A dull roar of heat,
Bearing down on my frail form.
I could have chosen to turn back.
To push ahead.
"Come, come!
Lay with me."

I lay down my messenger bag.
A canteen, Seiko watch, and rosary beads.
"These have no place here."
They had no purpose there.

The white and azure Saharan sky
-intersected by a lone pale cloud-
Quickly turned to tyrian purple and vermillion.
Pale yellow sand to sanguine with the setting sun.

Sanguine and fleshy,
Fleshy hues upon my back
Transversing valleys and gorges
-premature aging-
Slowly growing like tallow,
Rendering a pale yellow sallow.
Settling for a pale, streched sallow.