priapismic yucca
explode across the plains
leaning left and right and back
from the weight of winter’s wrath

hands in my hair
still unused to its short weight
i lean too, lean to, lean two
feet west of where i ought to be

and smile for you are with me,
crouching in the dust
squinting through the grass
my silent silver lion
stalking his next
                             best shot

©s rogers 25 july 2010