In the Sands

My hands are brown,

beneath the sun
and in the sands
of the Sahara,
they crack
and burn.

Shade-side
rivulets run
in fear
of the dry gusts
that scorch the air.

Inhale the scent
of the eastern wind,
as it carries with it
my queen’s command,

“Kneel in the sand
and burn for your sin!”

I was not worthy
to look upon the skin
of my queen,

Nefertiti.

But,
I would sin,
kneel,
and burn again,

for the slightest
chance
that her gaze
might

reach me.


©️ 2019.

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