So fine as to be a hidden thing:
this island of glass and concrete
 
is a derivation of sand.
Furtive in the salted
 
accent of a sea breeze, or 
passing for gravel along
 
sandpapered miles of expressway,
it can remain undetectable for days, 
 
even decades. Consider bees 
which have misjudged it 
 
for pollen, something 
life-sustaining. When rain 
 
hammers down, sand 
gloats over the open 
 
palms of marble fountains
and condominium pools.
 
Say the monsoon is late.
If the forecast is to blame
 
and there are no miracles
to interpret, why are our 
 
throats brimming 
with the silt of it?