Head Full of Barley

I am filled with another summer,
a backlit beyond
silhouetted against
an empty truck bed. 
I think my mind must smell
of barley. It is this
empty expanse where my desire
lies sleeping. I cannot touch it, 
but it fills this space,
brimming, golden, pressing
against the seams.
I call out into the valley, 
but there is no echo. 
My brain is soundproof. 
I see you, yes, in that precise
that your eyes bloom. 
Sad to say, 
but there is no room for you

Tamara Franks is a graduate of the University of Alabama in Huntsville with a BA in English and has been writing for ten years. She maintains a Tumblr blog at thewrittenpoet.tumblr.com.