Sand swipes my eye
I cannot see
the fisherman’s trail
Boats wobble
till my eyes steady
Elephants of the sea
call out to giraffes of the sky
they are all grey
In mental combat
I drink hard glasses of wine
The road rips the field
the rain, the road
They are all mine
The food grows alive
in me
dawn arrives
as the first thought
on a second morning
A city confused,
a cousin of the village
- a disqualified town
Bartholomew James Jude
Sinners in ripe youth
Dance in music and
mandos
(c) Rochelle Potkar
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