First published in
Raritan

Landscape with Torn Stocking.

The sea is a jade skull and the woman in the dress
stands at the end of the dock. She appeared the day
of the sandstorm and crueler news from the Nile.
Drunks in the square cup dice and speak of her as specter,
or survivor. Others claim it was simple heartbreak—
her lover buried along with Tanis. Yet no one
dares approach, and suspicion holds. Night falls.

A biplane moans in the darkness. The salt wind snaps
at the woman’s dress. At the harbor-side café a man orders a glass
of Pernod. Taking leave of superstition, he offers her his coat,
returning soon after to give a beggar his billfold, saying only
that he trespassed and must leave the city immediately on foot.
He departs, last seen some days later near a Bedouin camp, digging
for something with a spade. You would not believe in rapture anyway.