TARAFA

…..
The ruins Khawla left

on the mottled flatlands of Thimhad

appear and fade, like the trace of a tattoo

on the back of a hand.

…..



…..
When I snap the rough-fringed whip

she bursts forward,

vapours smouldering

over the kindled rock terrain.

…..



…..
You see two heaps of earth

with silent slabs

of hard, deaf stone

piled up upon them.

I see death choose

the generous and the noble,

while picking over the best part

of the hardened miser’s spoil
…..