The sand between my toes
is gritty
the heavy kind that
sticks to the
crevices and corners
of your heart
--the sands of time—
running quickly into the
bottom of the hourglass

The cup in my hands
is half full
half empty
filled with
the blood
of my beating heart
the water of my fears
the silence of my dreams.

The sickness in my lungs
is unstoppable
--incurable as the
cancer in my conscience
the one that keeps me
coughing
crying

The sand between my toes
is gritty
Harsh enough to scrub
away the sickness
to dry the blood
from my half-cup

And I’ll keep some
on my pinky toe
in the knuckle fold
the dark place where
secrets are kept.
the dark place
where truth
lies