By Ivy Collins Poitras
C (rushed, like unwanted thoughts to an unwanted mortal,
innocent but for senses (innocent before senses),
spun quick like cotton candy, melted in mouths
like the faces and words of mortal gods.
The blurry-faced, one and all and one in all,
helplessly trampled under the boots of the unattainable,
atop yet faraway, and what they stand for (stand on).
Pedestals eroding slowly, eventually) razed, like madmen in sandstorms.