White Sands

Cancer blows me
Like the gypsum crystals
Of white sand dunes

Perhaps I’ll end up
In your hair
In your shoes
Under your fingernails

Perhaps this is a slow migration
From one dune to the next
Up & down the valley

Perhaps I’ll be scooped
Into a large pot
Of simmering soy milk
& I’ll become fresh tofu

Perhaps you’ll eat me
I hope you’ll eat me