Comments Inbox
| |
About This Poem
Sandstorm
I am standing in a sandstorm, it is midnight
and the air is hot and muggy
Strands of my hair get whisked from my face,
and tangle in the dust
My brother and I sit
astride a giant camel
warm and breathing
beneath an itchy
hair rug saddle
We are swung forwards,
almost, then horizontal
as the camel straightens his legs
to stand. We tip from side
to side, as he walks, like two water
jugs on a Dutchman's
back or the breasts of
a woman with
a baby in her belly
It is our first night in Cairo
and it is loud.
Cars honk their
horns and people bark in
curry-laden English;
men wearing long
white dresses ebb
into the shadows.
I am up way past my bedtime and
I am awake.
|
|
|