I felt my father’s hand again on my forehead
and saw my mother’s face like a badge of
all around was barren, the sun pouring its
and every foot was bleeding, its sole torn
The rocks were naked, parched, the oasis was
shrivelled, scattered skeletons lay around
the horizons were hazy, a cloud of barbed
and time a measured beat, a slow stifled poem.
My mother untied her apron, the winds snapped
The caravan stopped dead like still statues in
they’d come as far as they could, now had to
My father gave me a drink, the last from his
and pointed me due west. So I went on alone.
The sands behind me dribbled and filled in my