submergence

I was all angle once
sharp and schist-like
a spiked rock dragon-back
arching into air

too late you learn    the long
wash of days    given grist enough
finds your fissures
chafes them    wide

these days   knowing    I wade
in a rising tide    of blonde    of bland
when my time comes
I will degrade    with particulate    grace

           become    the merest    dimple
                      in a    cheek    of beach
                                smooth and    silted
                                           with my own    crushed    dust

Melinda Smith