A traveler in the desert.
He comes across a statue with only imperious feet remaining.
On the statue is a plaque.
Pulling back his scarf, he reads
“I was built by the ones who came before
I was built by the ones who left.”
The traveler walks on and remembers
A night in the city. A girl who smelled of pomegranate.
A single candle extinguished by an open window.
Sweat. Heat. A broken kiss. A rasped goodbye.
Maybe he was the statue alone in the dunes.
But the traveler realized
No, I am the one who desecrated it.
Sand
Published
Poetry Overdose 