Poetry Is My Protest: Poem # 2

I lost my boots in the desert.

The wind was merciless & hid our footsteps 

from the young sun.

We carried our expeditions upon our shoulders

until these windswept constellations bid our feet to dance.

We yielded to the golden hum of a luminous, scaling sound & entered

the frenzied contagion of instinct & rhythm. 

In the distance, our wheezing cities lay watching 

as we drew maps of the universe with burning heels 

pressed into the sand. 

We held the moonlight within our lips;

an

invitation

in

our 

hands.