On Beauty & the Wasteland - v.3 / issue 3 - Sandtrap
On Beauty & the Wasteland
V. 3 / issue 3
Maybe I can tolerate the cool wet sand underneath?
I burrow my feet.
No — It’s quicksand.
In a moment, I am buried alive.
The sand invades me. Every part of me.
Gritting my eyes, my vagina.
All creases and folds.
Every orifice — pleffth.
I can’t see.
I can’t breathe.
Blind mans bluff turns into
Gagged and Bound
Hardened desert dwellers
Poking for a pearl.
I don’t want to play this game.
I tear off the blind fold, spit out the gag, but
even then
I cannot open my eyes —
goddamn sand
I am sobbing.
Every cell of my being is screaming
Help!
Help me open my eyes.
Please.
Where are the woods?
Where is the
moist
mossy
muddy
mushroomy
dark?
Where is Rilke’s web of a hundred roots
drinking?
Where are the eco-feminist witch coven children
Creating potion poisons and mud pie dreams?
Where are my protectors and my playmates?
What if I am lost in the desert forever?
Undefended and alone.
I cannot find my way
Where is
Home?
…
Ecofemiwitch seeking playmates for a kind, but not-always-nice game of
It’s Not a Board Game; We’re a Sphere Game, Motherfucker.
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