Ocotillo burning bush

Oh Moses speak in flowers,
bloom against the desert sky.

Why do I need your speech?
You, who are only plant.

I wish I could make
as many words as possible to fill my need,
to drown you out.

But still you would burn,
and I,
in the midst of you,
kiss the flames that lick my fingertips.

Consume me,
and be still.

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