the desert sand
moves through our eyelids
like other peoples’ problems that become
our own :

each woven loop, a desperate handhold of precious cargo
each intertwining thread-arm
shoulder to shoulder ,
dry.elbows locked /
@ a citystate’s walls
a crystal cathedral refracts the
prismcut pathways of the bright
   shawl slung over her neck like a
yolk//
   shivering at the tall gates of
this
****-farm for the ****-hearted

they turn her
away.
they turn into
men and **** the boys.they
fight back the
desire to love and
burn houses for the want of
                night-
                lights
on someone else’s
lawn.



hey, be. hey, be ye.