She circles all around me.
Tires against gravel. Wailing. Screeching.
These people, who do not forget their way home.
Margaret tried to hum a tune.
So then came that great, roving kind of silence.
What was laid before him, horrible at night, was even more dreadful in the day
I see the flower and I am not melancholy. I see my shadow but I am not afraid.
She steps onto the lectern. Light static rings outward.
The piano resonates. Each note whistles.
I had informed Hadiyah and the others that this last trek to the oasis was to be done alone.