morning's inexorable time to arrive
the hour of dawn thrice postponed
noplace in these speckled ways
is time for escape or denial
under a sky so blue as my soul
deceptive entity, descending shroud,
lacking the legs to flee for the sand dunes
finding in darkness our tumbling eyes
abandoned by our own desires.
confusing and jumping, the flamenco dance
our footfalls the lightest, crossing the end,
we find ourselves in the shadowy hall
our thoughts like the sparrows, thrown like the sand,
united at once in their condemnation
for us too shameful to dance in the sun.
Return to index.