Sand In The Mouth

The hot Earth blisters
Opening to the unwitting tear of
Man’s insensitive hand

The glaciers crack and crumble
Centuries plunging into
Too warm waters

Fish and bird
Too soon entombed in
The rising wave

The frail creatures who
Cannot protest lie
Twitching in the gathering dust

Dry are the bones of
A million lost hopes
Broken in a desert of mind

But bland machines
Continue to grind and shake
Dollars making heroes out of

Plaster and Paris who
Fancy themselves
Immortal.


(Previously published in Gangway, Issue 30-31,2004)

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