Dust In The Wind

Wind curls around the corner of nowhere
as I lie here while the grit blows
against my sun bleached bones
dead without dimension,
and leaving no mark
for having wished
too softly and seldom –
I was patient too long
and trusted too damned much
now sand creeps across the land
wedded to the cleft of yesterday
I am a shape without space
as air flows through me
decayed from
the inside out
offering myself in a
last desperate oblation
as my words, like the wind
intercepts their meaning
saying it without nouns,
italics, fury or pathos
uncomplaining and unbound
upon this parched dry ground
until at last an end of the end,
I am merely dust and settled again.

© Roxi St. Clair

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