Friday, April 29, 2011


Crusty scales harden her bruised,
Corroding flesh
Callous upon callous
Repulsive, yet protective, Earth’s ancient cocoon
Crumbling away, piece by piece
Anguishing with eternal thirst

Somewhere in her core
In an inaccessible place
She dreams of waves
Lapping softly against her jagged finger tips
Teasing her gently
Tickling her impenetrable skin
As futile as a dandelion’s delicate dance
Upon an oily slab of rock
The soft, sensuous scent of salt
Cool, smooth froth spilling over her
The soothing whisper of an estranged friend

But she knows…she knows
It’s just a foolish dream
The wounded waves will never come
The throbbing thirst her only real companion
And in this knowing
She finds strength
To caress her own scars
To gather up her pieces
And make something whole
So when the winds come
It will not matter. She will be hard.
She will be numb.