A lass again. Not again. It just gets more and more foreboding, doesn’t it?
~!~
In the dust of a quiet afternoon, this dreamer and contender cowers,
skewered by radiant visions of a city free from repression
Twice-told incantations, so hypnotic and redeeming,
yet leaves her shivering
Did she forget her permission slip?
Or was hers too unprecedented
Trapezoids abound where normally there are squares,
Cylinders drip where there should be polka dots and triangles
Or did she wander into the wrong border gate?
Did the wind thrust her off-course?
Did the border guard find her brush strokes and hand-crafted identity
too mesmerizing to resist —
a closer look, another touch, a saturated sample —
with no intention of letting her pass?
Did curiosity disguise itself as intention, hoping its twin would never find out
that a new sun was yearned for
with never before a reason to hope
for something more.
— yiqi 17 2011
Kind of an abrupt ending, I know…not my best but the muse is fickle.
Sitting Pugs: Sports Movies 
If I may be so bold , I would finish it by adding:
the sun regrets, retires
…and the hope lies bleeding
In the dust of a quiet afternoon
Your first three lines are wonderful. Great poem, Stina! 🙂
That would indeed be a great ending, were it not for its downbeat aftertaste. =(
Were I merely make-believing, were the inspiration for the poem something I weren’t wholly invested in, I would work in your suggestion.