Cravings

 

Empty.

 

Yearning.

 

She craves the raspy-nothing of sandpaper

to free her from

 

skin.

 

To open her to the light flash whiteness of wider, more infinite

skies

plains

roads

heavens

twilight

living

being.

 

Sun to bleach her bones.

 

Cravings unsated, raw.

Itching for release

 

and

 

redemption.

–Charla M. DelaCuadra