by Matthew Dexter
INDIAN SUMMER
speckled naked sand caresses your flesh
as you sip the semen of our fathers
tethered to the demons and streams and six hour currents
rising and sinking we rest our coffins in the mud.
THE WITHERED STREAM
Amply lowing from her soul the salt stains the wood beneath her cane
as the storm collects beneath broken eyelids
and I hold her
waiting for the calm that never comes.
Matthew Dexter lives in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Like nomadic Pericú, he survives on a hunter-gatherer subsistence diet.