How can a gesture erase
a thousand others
are less than the one person
The hand’s caress
figures in the sand the cathedrals,
erected to capture
distant sounds the awe for God,
now are now gossamer structures
floating on the frothy water
The hand holds grains towards the indeterminate
It constructs horizon’s alter.
The hand holds onto a grain
like a drowning man out of luck.
And as he pulls on that speck,
he unravels his own fabric,
for he is made of sand,
as much as his castles.
That hand’s caress unforgettable, unforgiving
Nothing more persists nothing more exists
than the downing man’s living: excess
of another tomorrow,