In the Provincetown Dunes
 
I've been walking hot in dune prayer, wandering
over sand hills and craters. There's no one here
and alone is an odd place after awhile
with no one to point me down the dune buggy road.
Dune trees scrape my shoulders, cause my trail to meander.

An old woman lives out here.
She puts up a flag for mail, or water.
For what she needs. I can't see her,
there's no flag either. I lick a salt stripe
off my forearm, mixed with the faintest taste of hair.
​If I die out here they'll find me soon enough, my camera
filled with pictures, smiling self-timed.

I've been walking long in dune prayer, squinting
into glare. I thirst for one straight path back.
My legs are tired now. But prayers don't lead us home, do they?
They just burn - like sand steps.
 



[First appeared in Tiger's Eye]