Roz Kaveney (rozk) wrote,
Roz Kaveney

Another one

The delta but no sea, streams, rivulets
the river flowing somewhere out of sight.
Small birds to catch or sing. Bright stars at night.
Warm but not burning sun. She soon forgets

her life in joy. Chasing red flowers that blow
upon light winds. Salt olives and sweet dates.
Tiny salt fish arranged on silver plates
to come across when hungry. And to go

with soothing rustling through the endless reeds.
And not to hear her bones and wrappings ground
in mortars, when apothecaries found
the medicine that every patient needs

that stinks and does no harm, nor hear a crowd
discuss her withered naked corpse aloud.
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