POETRY: writer's block

Updated: Sep 23

Artwork by Michelle Dong, staff artist

somewhere in the desert, words bleed

out of my pockets like raindrops &

disappear; there is no water left.

too much steel, not enough flint,

a heat that itches & unpacks itself as

grit inside my throat—i am overgrown,

with silence. there sits the lip where

the sand meets the sea, that dream

masterpiece—they are all calling for it.

well, i’ll be gone: uncovering the bones

that are left, i wind up, chase after

my thirst, fragment into a spark of

struggling light—& i wait, i’ll keep

waiting, for the emptiness to ignite,

the shore to let me

take a sip.

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