The Conception of Isaac

At night, your hair was white waves,
the sand caressed our skin that could not be contained,
but God told you
you would be like the sand and the mountains,
eternal; ephemeral, like the breaths that escape our bodies:
Is this line of your arms around my breasts to cease,
like this night, when you will saddle your donkeys
and look towards a flash of pink -the sky bleeds
like a woman.

I do not bleed like a woman.

I have become drier than the brown warmth
into which we sink our bodies.
"I'll try not to hurt you", you said,
but I could already feel you lying,
and her shadow passed between us,
flashed and was gone, like a bat passing through the wind.

But tonight feels different - a mirage, perhaps.

I am drawn into the waves of your body,
like the bucket of a young girl, dipped into the well, slowly,
then faster, to slake the camels' thirst.

I have grown thirsty, my love, for the water of your kisses.

You do not have enough saliva to quench my thirst,
and when the dawn bleeds like a woman into morning,
I too, have become a woman again, sweet and prickly,
like the cactus flowers that line our tent,
like the taste of your tears.