Sedona

On a dust plain, you see heat rise,
distort dry fauna fading green.
Bones ache, but your blooms distract, 
help me heal in precious, amber light.

In porch shade we rock, glide
side by side in silence
all these years. A moment arrives
so perfect, I kiss you,
passionately, again, feel 
the cicadas unrest and tremor.

We could strip to salt flesh I long to devour.
You stand to refill our lemonade.
My hand brushes the tender underside
of your boot cut denim.
Not long is dinner, sunset in Sedona.

We will afford the loss of sunrise.
Cayenne canyon of soaring rock
fences us willingly within.
No taste for dinner but soft cotton.
Aroma of sandalwood encircles
cooling limbs entwined. I feel 
beating beneath breathing
and hold the tender core
like a baby.

Thankful, all these years
absorbing color of sunrises
and the view across a shared room.
You could be a memory, 
constant in dreams, 
my soul’s red canyon.

Brian Ciochetto lives in Green Bay. A former award-winning broadcast journalist now blogging poetry and short stories, Brian lives a semi-retired life with no aspiration in publishing game. Busied with writing, researching and editing, an unending stream. Finds bliss as recluse with family, pets and pick-up basketball.