Climbing The Sun

In the shadow of the pyramid
you dropped your compact,

rosy cheeks sunlit,
crest of stone in the distance,

bubbles from sparse grass
greet the carapace of wind.

We’ve spent half the morning climbing
with the pungent horizon battling back.

Flanked by your eyes,
the guilt of a race

dark brown.
Opening the door of the tour bus,

the old man’s heart
having put down obsidian knives long ago.