Burning bush

Oy, what I had to go through—
morning breath, in and out,
the desert bird song,
the look in the lamb’s eye,
either a sinking or a rising feeling
in the stomach (neither one worked),
the abiding blood of that Egyptian,
the quaver in a stranger’s voice,
the cry of an anguished mother,
a longing the shape of desert air,
an emptiness greater than Egypt,
injustice at the well, and a woman,
a stunning sunrise, love and despair—
it went nowhere.

I finally had to light a crazy bush on fire
to get his attention.


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