Star Mile

By Kate Huneke

A violet painted sky (stubborn
clouds) and two sputtering heart buh-booms
beneath, the scene that confronts me-
saddens me.

Instead of sugary or
iron sounds, the lone noise
is the black sand
brushing over
it’s own
grainy blanket, and
the ragged breath of
beautiful, twisted lovers. I
am the only one who can hear
my rapid blinking. Tap, tap,
tap.

Dust-sparkling and simple-
is the only scent as
the snowflakes whip around
my bare legs, proving winter’s
random temper.

The ghost of your taste,
perplexing and enigmatic, still
sleeping on the tip
of the tongue, numb
and totally unwilling
to make amends.
I am just as vindictive
at present.