A translucent man sways across the splintered rocks.
His hair is dreaded with seashells from the old oceans.
Odometers cringe from large junk piles at the miles left under his feet.
barefoot and vulnerable, he begs to find a seat among the bare steppes.
He looks to the ember sunset, his eyes swell with salt and he weeps for he is
Land stricken, trapped, and caged.
Water has dried from the ducts of his eyes just as it left the caverns of the sea.
He begs the moon for waves, for purification and half a blessing
but gets no reply because the man has turned his cheek and forgotten the puddles of earth.