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J. R. Forman

Meeting Where The Two Deserts Kiss


tomorrow when we meet

your coat will still be damp

with eastern rain—from where


I ride the poppies sleep

unbloomed—will the monsoons

fly south another year?—


we’ll talk and talk—for once

I’ll cheers and tip my flask 

with more than shadow—though


the moon’s a jealous god

who will not let me rest

beside your pad—she’ll stare


full eyed all night because

we did not hide beneath

the Arizona oak—


my horse by morning like

a sail will disappear

on waves of dawn—you’ll see


horizon and the Pecos

flowing toward the sky—

between our meeting now


and next the ten year flood

will rise—you may not find

again this face—the days


imprint my brow and pass

the way the rain serrates

the dry arroyo sand

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