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That Itch






Shadows reach,
dapple the asphalt.
Hawks whoop,
surfing air.
Tumble weeds cling
ready to roll.

Desert breath blows,
tree tops twist.
Sweat salts my skin.

I itch.

All it takes is one
red spark.
I kneel down—watch
as the wind
picks it up. I withdraw,
at what I’ve unleashed
on every channel
No one knows.
Nothing can stop it.
I burn.
I don’t need anyone,
closer now—so high
I can’t stop.


Marilyn N. Robertson’s work has been published in Speechlessthemagazine, The Boston Literary Magazine, Chopin with Cherries, A Tribute in Verse, and is forthcoming in The Poetry Mystique, to be published by Duende Books.  She was a featured reader in “Viva Poetry,” the library poetry series leading up to Lummis Day and the L.A. Noir Festival.

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