When The Gazelles Are Asleep

by Charles Bane, Jr.

When the gazelles are asleep
and you have traveled to me
along the pepper smelling, red
dust road and the wild is dark
and only the long legged overhead
caravan, we will be alone.
There will be no porters near
and the unfamiliar smell of you
to the men will be like the
return of the endangered
they guard now with rifles;
thorns raking my back
and soft words falling onto
my lips as I enter a hidden
patch will be all that remains,
fiercely breathing and unknown.


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