Out of droughts
some things emerge,
and I recognised
an all consuming voice
of a giant sandworm
I’d read from a book;
an individual paragraph
which burned like spice
and changed everything
in its wake.
It followed me all day
bookmarked,
until it dried out completely,
so a page was folded back,
lest not to forget
where the desert began,
and how precious is water
when the ability to cry
is evaporated, crossing
too many dunes.
