Desert
Wind
I am reckless
in this wind.
Heat whistles through my limbs.
Another day empty of promise
envelopes another night.
A film covers my eyes,
dark negative
of the hour, the minute
my daughter died.
I wake that
moment
every day. In darkness
there is nothing.
Then roosters and dogs,
sometimes voices cursing,
an occasional gunshot.
Dawn eventually
tints my window.
I rise by habit, believing there is no choice.
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