ANAGRAM

The written shape of sand, drifting
into dunes,
lifting stubborn earth, cutting valleys into hills,
where spills of sand fall gently into other hours
which in turn are never still,
but fall again and shift between.


The words are scattered over sand,
stung into smooth and polished shapes by wind and sea,
holding no meaning, merely there,
devoid of continuity, a difficult and daring
Decalogue of destiny,
where time is the consonant that clips the cryptograph,
the anagram, reiteration of the wind,
whose stealth we do not comprehend.


© 2010 Charlotte Merrill Jensen