A Woman's Yearning

Dark love,
blood red haze
and sweltering sky.
I'm dying into
loving in this
endless heated
tumble.

No range of mountains
below me,
no rocky craggs
or sharp,
steady points,
no far, sky high mists
or waters cold.

There is an engine
rumbling in the distance.
I can feel it
trembling my thighs,
churning my belly.

And I'm waiting.

An experiment,
lovely alchemy,
pressure cooked
and pressed between
the folds,
a dying flower
whose love
has not
yet come.