Downpour Poem by Sandra Dodd

In the desert of my choosing,
weakly I wish to let your
downpour wash me to a moist
forest climate with your kisses

giving away my goals letting
you cavalierly brush, deluge
my cacti until my prickles are
smoothed by the taste of you

let you slither under my waist land
consuming all dry expanding crevasses
with your rare species, caressing
me, filling my interior to your pleasing

Like the Joshua tree that blooms
once a year, rare to see. I admit
I wish you to cut mine down
climb upon, supinely pleasing my
appetite to have you ravage me

Tempted to let you wash my desert away
But what then? How would we continue?
Would you pour out on me again?