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Sandfall

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I’m told the wind is the keeper of memories
But I don’t even think it knows
When I started bleeding

A young man stands on the shore
Where clockwork waves
Only move with the death of butterflies

Sand swims over his feet
He grabs a handful of the
Loose ground and lets it

Slip into the water
He’s a February child, like me
I can tell from his voice

It falls like heart-shaped snow
I pick up the sand
It brings me back to Cub Scouts

“Don’t worry. We’ll catch you”
I lean back like a baby eagle learning to fly
Gravity does its only routine
Two boys back away from me
My body meets the tile floor

Sand slides out of my grasp
My fingers are frost, born of ice
The shore shows itself again

I don’t think it worked



Cristian Dunn is a senior majoring in Creative and Professional Writing and minoring in English at Cumberland University. He recently finished writing a poetry chapbook titled Sandfallen Saints. When Cristian is not spending his time writing, he enjoys listening to songs from musicals.