fly-by-nite lighthouse

alkali soil & raw flesh

Encased 'neath skeleton chalkrock, crooked with crags pressing into my sides gnawing jagged scars deep in naked skin but I’m comforted by the pain and then molasses warmth creeps into my muscles legs at first, then trunk and arms the numbness seeps, seducing with charms and I lose the memory of living in a body, I’m a packed up heap in a dried-out hole no moisture here to tickle my lips nor to guzzle, chug, even halfheartedly sip parched dusty desert terrain squeezing out memory, sense and mission to maintain. Alkali soil and raw flesh in chemical collision- I reach out to stretch with arms restrained but I only eke a fraction of an inch before my body starts to jar, spasm and wrench then sags, slumps and gives way to nature, a sacrifice to the noonday sun and the hungry whimsy of nighttime creatures.

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E-MAIL THE WOULD-BE POET

ALL POETRY COPYRIGHT MB TANKERSLEY 2005

Was recently on a trip via plane and happened to be sitting next to a chatty fellow who raved about a book he had been reading about a man trapped in a lonely canyon after a solo hike. That's why this was top of mind. Three titles came to mind- "Deserted" being the first, nice play on words but kind of dull. "The Hazards of Hiking Alone" is the second, the third is what you see above, which is fun as a title (if not in practice!)