The Graduate Caitríona Walsh On the vesper of March I pulsed through the desert, Ever the vagary Clot of the bloodline.
Koutoubia's minaret Catnapped before me, Steepled in sandstone–A moonshot missile
Lullabied by ouds And kittens' Bare-bellied Midnight mewls.
Medina mazes Assuaged by Cloud-confetti Orange blossoms–
Palls of scent spun In arabesque spells Through souks Keyhole arches.
I woke with Muezzin's Call to prayer, Parched, perplexed By Agafay air–
Caught in my glottis As cockcrow came–Florid gown gone, No call to cross campus
With tasselled cap Like a gored Rorschach blot, The gashed wattle Of a prize grouse
Or a stray tide's Red-stained froth rim–Raked far From shipwreck wraiths.
Instead, I conferred With cordial drivers and Spinning-top Sufis In fractured French,
Sipped rose-syrup tea In a turquoise courtyard Of a trillion druzy Star-strewn tiles,
Bled, in secret, Beneath the furtive folds Of an opalite skirt– Shed my pelt

More from Caitríona Walsh ↓

• @tone.down.the.blonde on Instagram
• Caitríona is a host for Gut Punch Prompts, as twice-monthly poetry contest on Instagram.
• You can hear me read Two Wishes by Caitríona on Instagram @rembrandts.cure.

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