Sadistic, it tortures one’s
nerves until erosion
creates craziness. Days and
nights of howling and hissing
through cracks in doors
and window panes. Grains
of earth’s surface settle
upon tables and damp cotton tea towels
covering the cribs. Bleached white
tea towels blackened by persistence.
No one knows when it will cease or if.
Hope is a fossil, a dinosaur
embedded in the layers of landscape
carried by this cruel wind.