February 4, 2012 Sunday Whirl

Sunday Whirl

Far From Home

I sit among the ruins

Crumbled, rotted, waste

A metallic taste in my mouth

As just before throwing up

The staccato beat of my heart

Crashes loudly in my ears

A dart is thrown

Seeking a target

I am in exile

I walk the desert

Lift the latch

Reveal the scar

The wind throws a billow of sand

Before me

Dirt devils give a petulant twist

Light fuses

Set fires seen in the distance

I accept the present without rebellion

The future is dubious