Monsoons fell on the red dirt
chasing diamondbacks under flat rocks
with an angry rattle of their tails.
Though it's the hiss of rain on desert dry-
cracked earth we find to be more menacing
as floods could wash us out.
"Scared?" I ask
She grins, flipping night jasmine, wet hair
out of her eyes, her eyes flash with lightening.
She leaps like a mountain lion
and we are ass over end, rolling
in the mud. A fever and a fight
who gets top—her. It's the wet squelch
under my shoulder blades and heels
that says she wins while we throw off clothes.
We move serpentine, naked in the
ooze, caked in the clay slime.
Rain turns to hail,
hell, HELL! Laughing, shivering joy,
I inadvertently taste ice in her long kiss.
We are muddy but we are happy,
All I can think of is that I will
remember this every monsoon and I do.
- Add a