Made of sand

It’s a quiet destruction
she keeps to herself
which nobody notices
because of the windstorm.

There’s no safe way to articulate
desire when superimposed
over an existing portrait
without losing some definition.

The wind shapes the hills
while she sits somewhat still,
feeling like a sand mandala
blown across burgeoning winter.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s