“Are you excited?”
The innocently perky question catches me off guard
Sand of my heart’s desert chokes the “appropriate” response –
A sun-bleached bone of contention shadows my eyes, stagnates my thoughts
Tints the answer I cough out in dull browns, then rash reds.
Not really,
more tired
Tired and true
Too true to mask the malignancy in this moment
Too tired to share my hope to twist the starkness I feel into treasure -a Georgia-worthy gem.