The Sultan of Ajban

"oh that the desert were my dwelling place,
with only one fair spirit for my minster.
That I might forget the human race,
And hating no one, love her only."
- Lord Byron


Ra is heated
his perpetual brilliance cast out
so scorpions retreat to the shadows
cowering into narrow creases.

Their sting burns
lightly
against the searing of bare flesh

so I never notice
the vast expanse expanding
in a distending mirage.

Jaded djinn wail within the feral sands
whip my eyes
taunt me with an inescapable fast.

Lips bleed
I stoop to my knees
wait

for light to bow below the dunes
to the empress wrapped
in silver folds of sand

glimmers in the cooling starlight
my divining rod.

Long fingers weave the wind
soothing spring kisses
lift me
along a silk road
towards her hidden oasis.

She breathes softly as we bathe beneath
swirling planets
whispers

'I will wrap you in the finest of silks.
For you are the Sultan of Ajban.'