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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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