Millennia’s walls bite the bleached land.
Laid bare by the square, these reincarnations
Gift us the patina of knowledge.
Beachcombed from time’s surf, loom stones and latrines
Invent afresh unmet, brief-glimpsed lives,
That will, shaman-wise, predict alleyways.
Next to me, Sara’s in scientific prayer
Brushing dust from something she hopes is a coin.
I smile, enjoying her breasts for a while
The curve of her hip checkmates scholarship.
Is this sin? Replacing history with her?
Is salvation praising resurrected ghosts?
Sara toils on. The spectres and I join hands:
Revelation lifts us across the sands.