Apologizing For Nothing
Instead of looking up-
they look down at color of ankles, skin and
stubbly hair, temptation yet hate
drive to rub skin of ankle,
until they skin the ankle…?
But now, it is not rub, it is
Indian burn, we yearn for something else.
She looked up too much so she tripped over the rock
and apologized to it; skin fried to blend in with trees and honey.
For suffocating in the gas of stupid senseless song, untuned, no moon shines above them.
On this journey, the dry year sealed her face
locked, pigment and color labelled sand
until she reached home, no one found care,
like waves on desert does not begin until dim dark world is