Kit Kelen #539 - Marrakech - Ramadan

539

Marrakech – Ramadan

textbook of the tourist's undocumented needs

strange shallow night

from which the birds have sung

none of the prayer calls woke me

first sky's washed out

sway brocaded

it was alley dark we came

furtive, foregoing the wheelbarrow offered

on foot, maze trod

you won't dream a way back

but that's how we came

the sun here's stored in little vials

we have kept for the night

and shelves of figures come to colour

these verses are from a forgotten book

the whole street here recites

because it is yet to be written

the saints will wake

then who should they be?

lit miniatures won't be made out

it is deeds resound

roof of the riad

in the olive's almost reach

walls are the desert

ceiling is moon

this floor as of the earth djinns shook

the whole room – not a right angle in it

but you are travelling here

surrender

eyes after

hijab, beards, cleanshaven

perhaps faces from the Souk tomorrow

features lost to centuries

these all luminous objects the desert has left

shelves of figures come to light

miniatures won't be made out

no one came here but the whole night climbing

walls are the desert

ceiling is moon

we cling to our raft

washed up on this sky

seas spoken far off

clouds murmur

the language is not mine to name

what is it the pigeon seeks

where the heat of the day wears on

to hear water falling

to taste the sweetness of tea

to come to a stillness here