DESERT

DESERT


          streets of volcanic ash
        clad with fissured marble
               then the long caravan
           miles of sand a white sun
               scorching the canopy
            that drooped over its
           single human cargo

                crushed by the moneybelt
                pockets bursting with
           coins of silver and gold

                in fever I kept my vow
          better than a monk
              because more was at stake

               days and nights of silence
              menaced specters nested
        in a swatch of lace
             their blooded eyes
              peering through the loops


(c) ERIC BASSO      

May 5, 2014