Friday, January 31, 2003

Nile '03

Waving at strangers,
which god is at your side
fluorescent minaret?

You are a match struck
beside four-thousand year old
fading pigments.

You are a twist of pale grey
beside a sky of smoke, of history,
of farmers burning fields,
of Cleopatra's cigarettes.

Luxor '03

What really pisses
god’s fanclub off?
Egyptians.
They beat you to it.

History can brush off the youngsters –
Unitarian, Muslim, Baptist.

But Egypt
wags a stony finger in your face
jabs deep in the Christian heart it’s sting:
You blew it.