Andrew Chen

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Desert Song

Cracked sands
Are the death of the traveler
Black-faced and bloody lips,
I can almost hear the snickering voices
in the corners
of the vast expanse,

Yet no one hears the desert song
When we raise our voices to the storms,
Pray for rain
—Wet the lands!
Bring sweet life to our words

At the very least, could we fork
an indignant rage
Crashing
into the sands,
Fulgurous black lightning,
Lovers with no faces,
At the very least, could we fork
an enemy his name,

then perhaps the cracks in the sands
would cease
And our codfish eyes could drink again,
For even the sunbaked traveler knows
These humans deserve a little rain

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