of running about on loosened
tiles. They slide and crack.
making me shake and stumble.
Too much is flowing over me
like waves at the full moon.
when gulls gather around dirt bins.
From the beach I can see
five pelicans in the sky.
I fill my hands with sand,
microscopic jewels,
jade, rose-quartz, garnet
but bones too are buried in the sand
thin and brittle, frail as day old chickens
I walk barefoot over them.
The moon, grown large
comes closer on the wane
The wind sweeps clouds across its
bleakness.
There is sadness in the singing.
circling the cold starry night
playing with shadows
on the shifting sand
No comments:
Post a Comment