one spell

Cherra dries her hair

in the mist cover tillage

nippy wind waves past

almost tearing apart

the meat of your ears, exposed.

your feet stay afloat in the cotton cloud.

inundated Bangladesh flags from across

rains beat out the toweled thought.

Gujarat shrubs armspread eye above

in the unliquored state

whirling warm wind

strands of hay whiff out

dust eclipse your way.

One spell

and the dry well of tears

surfacebrim

lashes rhythmically flutter

lips lacerate s

sky and earth arm clasped rejoice

a split

none wish to make a choice.

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