Saturdays are promises misspoken that carry
ammunition for the week. We enter
a range of exhaustion,
bullet bright, concentric motifs
that rifle us past the Sun. Mooning our loss
of respite from the race, a legion rattles
Is velocity even a question?
What deserts scorched at perihelion?
Melting sands swirl – camels in glass.
Weapons droop into ploughshares.
Still the hardened days untillable,
“until” hocked like a promissory
note. Hooked on through dies Martis.
Humpday comes as oasis breather.
Then Fire-day our trial by splitting
the distance between caravanserai
and the Gobi-tween. Dates blend.
Hookah left at the next pyramid.
Time burnt in offering, smoking skyward.
The camels shift nervously in their traces.
qbit has taken up my Renga Challenge as a part of Jilly’s January Casting Bricks to Attract Jade Challenge.