Saturday, April 26, 2008


What is the meaning of this wind?

It writes its secrets across our
faces then erases them
with its next alchemical breath, leaving
the memory of its passage in

the grit we rub from our eyes and
lick off our teeth

each dusty curl maintaining only a trace of the
ones that went before, finding
its own course over and around
the obstacle that our solidity presents
unabashedly tearing at our clothing as if

it could easily be tattered, useless

for protecting our frail frames against
such laughter

Rachel Westfall
April 26, 2008

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