Fuerteventura Wind

I run my fingers over grey bones,
Trace out skeletons that never lived.
I lift the paper’s yellowed edge,
It’s last month’s news.
My nails, dirty, broken, peel the paint
From sunburnt cars that no-one wants.
My world is black rocks and broken roads,
You will leave and I won’t care.

Image: Abandoned Construction Project, Fuerteventura.
Copyright © Shona Silverman 2014.

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