The Homecoming

From your 
parched lips
a desert of 
swollen kisses
declaims against
a promised land 
of fire and ash.
Your breath 
gives birth 
to star-time, 
the violet, 
purpling sky 
encircling 
the earth 
rises with you
and will set 
in the dawn 
of your coming. 
Cross over this Jordan, then,
if you must.
Return as a prodigal.
Begin this search anew,
this quest,
the crawling out 
of self 
into self  
to escape coming home
to a dried carapace 
Of bleached bones 
flaking 
in the wind.