Genevieve Fitzgerald

I balk at your plans
To go into the desert
For one thing, it’s dry

It’s dry, hot and harsh
A siliciferous zone
And I prefer water

For another,
Whether forty days
Or forty years, I don’t want
Manna; to wander

I want direction.
Though it’s been given before.
Repeatedly.

And I suspected
Its veracity each time
Yes – repeatedly

So, I understand
What you’re doing. I’m in my
Desert already