Francesca Havens
Breakfast in Bizerte
The full moon rolled over the dunes,
raising a cloud of fine sand,
swirling past the scorpion’s lair,
speaking in a fine whisper of the night to come.
The lion shook his fine mane,
licked his meaty paw,
zebra heart beating in his belly,
savannah heart beating all around.
The dolphin chased the silver-flash tunny,
gliding and dipping,
proto-legs kicking,
pure and wild arabesques of intent.
And we, we had breakfast in Bizerte,
wondering where
it had all started,
where it would end.
Page(s) 44
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