What is it
I'm afraid you'll see,
staring at me
with your looks
and glances -
I swerve
foolhardily
out of the path
of your glare,
hiding behind
mottled
mirrored lenses
reflecting so many
versions of the sun.
I pant with sweat,
terrified
of your steady beam,
the illicit illumination
of dust and
mosquitoes
and dark.
I bury my hands
deeper,
shoveling faster
so
as to
find my skeleton bones
before you do.
