In The Dirt / Sun Beats Two-Time

On the dirt floor the child toyed with a scorpion - while
The sun hung round and feverish yellow

The scorpion - complained in passive lashing as
the body scooted further into shadow

Here: the dust rises without form but settles
on the bridge of the nose, threatening soft eye-white

a coarse woven blanket keeps time with tepid wind
in the distance, sand

The mountains seem cold like night on top of river
- they promise the health of sandless blowing wind

And here the drunken fishermen pass by in the streets
their nets hung empty, like cracked open lips

And drooping eyes, they take in the scorpion
And head home with wine-stained lips:

the boy redraws his home -