Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Sand
A cracker jack box crushed and damp in her hand
Withered like a dead fox buried deep in the sand
Shells from the sea crunched under bare feet
Too far from the comfort of the hot asphalt street
Her hair messed and rain soaked, muddy
Fingernails ripped, cuticles bloody
Her eyes are dried up but her face is wet
This is the place where the two lovers met
The night before, they walked on the shore
On her shoulders, his jacket, she wore
Later that night, they headed to the bar
Just across the street, not very far
It was then that she discovered the monster within
His taste for the flesh and the fluid in her skin
She broke free and ran as fast as she could
And hid beneath the dead trees and the rain soaked wood
She stayed all night, with no place left to go
No shoes on her feet, no witness to show
The cuts on her hurt at the sting of the wind
While she clutched to the crackerjack box in her hand
01.17.07 AP
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