She faced me oblique
Sun glinting off her eastern face
I have nothing for you...
But I waited anyway
Stilled in the cool of her shadow
Looking up at her broken nose
Where French canon had done damage
Her sleek haunches still taught
Her rigid spine sexy
Shadows moved along her thighs
Like silken veils
And her headdress flushed
In desert sunset
She would speak no more
Hills turned blood red behind
The valley dry as bone
And from the line leading back
To the temple came a keening
Voices of lamentation peeling
Lineage of Pharaohs shining
Solid as quartz lining
Asking: what is the riddle of stone?
There is no riddle. We are all alone...
© shaun patrick green 2011
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