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Lost in the Desert
Anna Bourassa
A dome of elegance and expansion
weaving between dunes of
soft sand cradling suspended conscious
desolate sounds lulled to sleep
Jerked awake to catch time
Always reaching
slipping from curled fingers
never enough left
to catch a moment
Rising steam
a plated cup
people passing at a desert pace
the sun rising and setting before probing eyes
into a canvas of painted stars
Spring 2026
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