Our bodies must produce sand
to block our sight
opening our senses
to the unembodied
shifting sands within.
The other senses remain
interchanging positions.
I can taste a Mama Cass song.
Smell the sun erasing its light.
Feel the overwhelming
orange blossom's breath.
Watch time dancing again.
Cheryl Lynn Moyer Peele
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/eye-sand/
