the world creaks, in quietness
or out of solitude
i brush past its wake, painting
the sand with my feet and with my
bruises and cracks, i've made
stamps on its face

the salty air, heavy
and streaked with indigos
and yellows and a staining
spread of a woman's blush.

the sky plays with her cloud earrings
swishing them east
with the help of her windy fingers
brushing past the sun's annoyance
and sleeping stars.

lonely, just as i am, she acknowledges
my presence with a smile
before taking off
into another world
the darkness to take over.