Rub' al Khali

I suppose she'd be relieved to learn
That her name pops up now without
An image tied to it. It's just a label
For a void, like interstellar space,
Or Empty Quarter or Sargasso Sea,
Places which extinguish life, and
That poor mind in which it pops
Cannot be said to have moved on.
It sits, discarded from the caravan
Which crossed this Quarter once,
Bearing treasured living things,
Its destination weeks of plodding
Off. She needn't worry that her
Refuse can be traced to her. Should
Anybody wander by, they'll find
Me baked and desiccated, lifeless,
Mostly, staring at the sand, but
Stirring now and then to mutter
Something sounding like it
Could be someone's name.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 75 times
Written on 2016-08-07 at 14:45

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