Desert By Caitlyn Siehl


Cora kissed the mouth
of the desert because I asked her to.

The latest sandstorm carved
a back out of a rock, a tongue
out of a tree.
She put her lips on
that place
and came away
unchanged but begging
for water.

There was no rain that could
promise anything.
I couldn’t
promise anything.

She asked:
If you could just
take the drought out of my throat
so that the river can be a river once
I don’t want it to flood
I just don’t ever want to be
thirsty like that again.

By Caitlyn Siehl


Caitlyn Siehl is a poet from New Jersey. She is currently in the final semester of her two year graduate program, and is expected to graduate with her Masters in May, 2017. She has published two books of poetry, entitled “What We Buried” and “Crybaby,” and has co-edited two poetry collections entitled Literary Sexts Volume 1 and Literary Sexts Volume II, all through Words Dance Publishing. She enjoys spicy Jalapeno chips and being surrounded by dogs at all times.

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