Observations at the Tenth Hour

A bilious colic near a holy well

A bag of lost bones (yet, who can tell ?)

Soldiers hidden in a snow-bound ravine

Half-cooked wheat that smells of kerosene

The incapable whisper of falling rain

A packsaddle hanging from a horse’s mane

Abandoned peat fires glowing on the downs

A wind chime rattle that wakes the hounds

An old woman stares with a cursing eye

A raven that circles a grey-black sky

Young girls shiver in the splintering cold

Their worn hands tight, their faces old

An evil dream tastes dry in his mouth

The women and children sent due south

The soughing of the wind through flaming huts

A grief-stricken plea for a red king’s guts

Some men parch for what used to be

Some seek refuge by a Joshua tree

I close our curtains in fear of the night

Border guards marching left and right