A Desert Tent



He waits for me in a desert tent

The wind with sand needles my face

I squint crows feet

I am the son

My mother wraps me in deception

My father waits in a desert tent

I smell the lie that is on me


He is old, like the womb that grew him

He is blind

He is my father

His name means laughter

I am still a clinging thing, without a wound


I carry the lie in a bowl

I feed it to my blind father

His name means laughter

The lie is heavy with spice

It is a strong lie

That my mother has prepared



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