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Sand as My Paper
I dig my fingers
into the sand. Feeling
the dirt under my nails.
It reminds me of
what I’ve just done.
Dirt under my fingernails,
guilt under my heart.
Alone;
with the moon as my witness,
I write.
My finger as my
pen, the sand as my
paper, the moon as my
lamp. When I’ve finished, I
step back, my foot
squelching indignantly. Then I plunge
into the ocean, letting the salt
blister my open eyes, and the cold
freeze my fibrillating heart, as the tide
washes away my wrongs.
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