Sand Storm
by Khai Do
my own lips and tongue graze
move, over smooth skin
my hand
the flavor of the universe, of oceans
foreign and forgotten, Neptune
beyond a grey cloud hides
rain water, fresh
once it was not. I am not
washes over green grasslands,
leaving behind tiny dew
never the desert, where I am
belong, a reservoir of sand
an agent of fear.
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