It's Still Life

The Desertification of Guizhou

We are grit and dust.
Parched to the core
fragile as the edge of eggshells.

No rain for years.
Just this milky mist that sedates
the red dogwoods with slashed
Picasso-edged punctuation.

Sun catches glistening teardrops,
baubles hooking on hanzi twigs.
Even the breeze catches, fastens,
and Guizhou coughs up sand.

A lick of wind scatters across us,
the sea is top-heavy with salt,
fluttering pearlescent flecks
from shucked oyster shells.

Even now, “Bon Appetit” echoes,
tingles the tongue with bitter song,
and the maître d’hôtel reminds us
that we’re on last call. Drink up.

We are our doom.
We are our damnation.
Our dust and clouded desires.
Drought and desertification.

First published 2 June 2010 with Poetry Quarterly Magazine, won second place in the Rebecca Lard Award Contest. Bought a new washing machine with the prize money. .Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.