Quiver Tree

A quiver tree had grown through his heart,

roots had searched out the seep

of the last of his love 

and left him desiccated.

I had roamed his body 

seeking satisfaction too,

but found myself empty-handed.

A gecko had written messages

in scuttled footprints, tail swept a caution

behind them - these were clues to follow - 

a witness to this kokerboom's arcane arts

that slaked a thirst in a man 

and drank him dry

upon this defeated ground

of hidden diamonds. 

The water had departed.

I waited for a fog to descend.

His blood drawn up

to their succulent alien hands

that plead to the panorama of a sky

that will not answer with its rain.

A desert forest of these trees;

a sand-god's army of them,

their sulphur-yellow blooms offered up,

their lucky misfortune,

his unlucky fortune -

when I discovered him

there was nothing remaining of him to save.