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)