she took a trip to the desert, tight-fisted on the flight
              they held hands in the air and pretended it was magic
        the neighbors were watching bella, bless her little femurs

we need some perspective, she said,
                   hair pulled back in a dark waterfall
                                she didn’t argue – she wasn’t wrong

                 the first flight to nevada was dark, the moon far too bright
            the ocean fell away as they went west
                 and she felt both at home in blackness
                            and worried she wouldn’t want to come back –

    when they arrived, the first thing she did was strip to her shorts
              and rode out to the desert;
                                she spent an eternity under the stars
                        while the raven unpacked, a smile on her face

               blushing sunsets and dry winds, stones in her soles
                    but she was being scraped clean
                                 raw palms and she found out
                              in an arrow straight way
                  that she needed to die
                       to be reborn

Prompt: Scorching