by Elisabeth Wilson

I can be beautiful.
Intricate; gently seek out my
soul. Yet you etch a pattern in the sand. A double cross.
Yes I can be beautiful
but I can be brave, bold and bad. Keep
you here so please, please don’t stray from my hold.
I blame myself sometimes, then I blame you.
So these scarce, solitary sand dunes
whisper that same song of Judas. You
are alone now.
I allude to beauty. In reality I’m reckless, and
justice will come to you.