‘Midst the dawn’s chill, she watched the night-time passing westward as she felt the tide of heat fall on her bare skin.
Unkempt, the pharaoh’s hair, dark as the diskless sky, did dress her form.
Do you hear?
“The cosmos, then, was chaos…”
A finely crafted lot of letters nailed into its door, the room, so full in retrospect, slept – spacious; silent.
The walls of mud-made brick that bind and shape the space they share start to compress – contracting in upon themselves; sharp shuddering.
Two paths curve t’ward an empty cradle.
Let sekhem and sesheshet sing in beat-procession, ringing through these ‘glyphed papyrus-reeds!