Poetry Is My Protest: Poem # 2





I lost my boots in the desert.
The wind was merciless & hid our footsteps 
from the young sun.

We carried our expeditions upon our shoulders
until these windswept constellations bid our feet to dance.

We yielded to the golden hum of a luminous, scaling sound & entered
the frenzied contagion of instinct & rhythm. 
In the distance, our wheezing cities lay watching 
as we drew maps of the universe with burning heels 
pressed into the sand. 

We held the moonlight within our lips;
an
invitation
in
our 
hands.


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