National Poetry Month Day 14 - Desiccated Summer

What was vision like

Before guesses desiccated summer

Stolen from the rain

Sky waves of dust for our eyes

And damp prayers became stain

Stains became art

So we breathe and breathe and breathe until

We speak in squeaks, all else sounds shrill

Outgrowing what we lived in

The stains became our new skin

With the only teeth we had and a plastic bag

Crunched the moon for forgiveness later

Like a dry mouth holding a communion wafer