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

Ending.

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