A tired face, exhausted by the stress of days
A stomach empty from the absence of activity,
A mind blank from the blistering sun.

A crawling arm, dragging body against the dirt
The illusion of water approaches and fades
Down a tunnel that spins, the crows laugh
and point, the body limp, dragging across that earth.

A litter of bones, of animal and sapiens,
The remains of a fallen building, a clock tower
That still chimes its twenty-fifith hour.