Knowing what will come:
blankets of dust, darkness
darker than dark, a black
pearl under a concrete pillow,
the ghostly wander the city
in search of bread.
Who will tell them they are dead
and should not wake the living?
Behind the curtain, my beloved
waits with gifts of pomegranate
and almonds. Who will tell him
that I loved him more than death
and now I love another? I am
thirsty for the river, the coldness
of the trembling stars, lonely lights
of ships sailing through the waters.