Desserts Deserved in the Desert

Feeling my belly firm under my soft canvas shirt—
I’m not very other-directed—
wondering when I’ll get my just desserts.

Hanging out in this wilderness of words,
I can work it either direct or reflected
when I’m feeling my belly firm under my soft canvas shirt.

And you can say I’m just lining up turds
(I want those words retracted),
but what could be more tautological than a deserved dessert—

my cantine in the desert,
the Lord’s birth reenacted—
feeling the muscles firm under my soft canvas shirt,

but crying because I feel such hurt—
jaw-rocking aching like an impacted
molar—my punishment for all the lonely deserts

I've walked through, if’t please the court?
Will today be the day my debts are collected?—
feeling my belly firm under my soft canvas shirt,
wondering when I’ll get my just desserts.