from grey-pink

heavily nibbled by mice

and then, then

it’s furry breath

over the cloister roof

 

a slammed door

the gate of sorrows

that short slope

into searing light

impossible to know

 

as moisture is drawn from it

 

not once

finally

footprints

to the horizon

built of mud bricks

only when the air cleared

outnumbered by camels

yet another cemetery