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Mirage
Mirage
David J Walker
She is the Dutchy of a
Sea of parched sand
The burning grounds are bound
By the appearance of nothingness and
The thirsty promises of a city yet to be
Encircled of itself
She knows the names of her
Many colored children
She keeps the address
of each grave saved with other
Scraps of paper in
Her bible and a book of recipe’s
She is oblivious to past successes
Of her nearest relatives
She is the winner of every election and the
manager of every pageant in a region
Where life is measured with
Drops of water
Limited
And painted by the number
A Mirage as always
in the middle
of nowhere
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