Desert Hairshirt


Cactus debris invades my clothing,
rubs against my body like sandpaper.

Prickly pear underwear,
cholla-filled leggings,
and a patterned shirt
stuffed with powdered thorns.

Sandals, encrusted with the dried silt
of desert plants. Each rake
of my nails sheds a little more.

Crone skin made tough by sediment.
Lotion for every body part.

Half-full plastic bottles perch
behind my bathroom sink,
protrude from shower stall crevices.

Those cacti want to eat me alive,
but I’m too stubborn
to let them have their way with me.

I dream of oceans
and tropical storms
in faraway countries,

while the desert
laughs at me behind my back.

It will snack on my bones someday.
Meanwhile, I can’t stop scratching.