Careeing over rocks
through sands, white and accepting
like the thighs of a temptress involved.
Past ancestoral imagery solidified in stone
moaning under skies made from magic man’s bones
I come across the brothers
stern and erect
chests puffed without plumage.
But no lesser intense
dressed for the quest – exquisite
Here I’m with it, within it
Can it be? Real, even is it?
And the waters do usually dance around them, bathing them but not on this day Waters like gods
that house manta rays and man’s dying days
and birthing pools
Their marks and hearts
dress the boys’ bases
I know there is more to their forms
than meets my eye,
here in time
under the sand’s reflective thighs
smooth ancients poised and protruding.
And I feel like a fucking sand fly – groping
hovering by their sides
as they watch over me – divine
Dune brothers – granite boys;
shaking motionless in your impossibility
all up in my eyes
dry in the afternoon sunshine, I cry.
cos you boys are spirit wonders incarnate
and I can’t even fathom this solidified truth sublime.