Desert Wind

I am reckless in this wind.
Heat whistles through my limbs.
Another day empty of promise
envelopes another night.
A film covers my eyes—
dark negative of the hour,
the minute my daughter died.

I wake to the moment every day.
In darkness there is nothing.
Then roosters and dogs,
sometimes voices cursing,
an occasional shotgun blast.

Dawn at last tints my window.
I rise by habit, believing there is no choice.