Until the Desert Night Once Again Falls
By Don Iannone

The desert night gasps for air,
like a seething tornado howls after
its own coveted perfectly still center.
Acetylene stars hang in pitch black sky
like crystalline Cinderella slippers
on a black velvet evening gown.
Too petrified to blink, our eyes lock
with the night's penetrating stare.
We long for the moon, but fear
the dreams it may birth in us,
crippling reality before its first awkward step.
The dunes cry mournful tears,
like those of a mother losing her only child.
I pray that one of the camels will move,
breaking the suffocating silence,
whose razor-sharp knife cuts deep
into the very jugular of our being.
Morning comes not a moment too soon,
and again we walk
until the desert night once again falls.