A Poem

By Tristan Night

I am seeing your mirage as I thirst
And I sink to my knees in the sand.

Minutes are months in this wasteland
Where sun-scorched terrain
Robs your hopes
And then yourself
Without a little bit of rain.

How I wish you would hail down on me now.

The days have grown too harsh
They dry my lips.

Weeks later
Under the same severe sun
You are still the only one
I want to wet them with.


The rain I drank to delight
And would still be drowned in.

– Excerpted from Tristan Night’s anthology, ‘Desolation and Wonder’ (Chapter 1, page 8)