Foundations for Fire
                               for Linda

In this photo, I send you light
shaking in white sand, shattered mirrors. That dark dot

is me. Thousands of miles north, for you it was starting
with a dot, dark spot of blood, the small life unraveling
cell by cell.

Nights in the pans one can hear the cry of hyenas,
see them in moonlight circling the camp as if searching
out the gate.

                   But there is no fence between us.
What you learn out there is what we've

always known: you build a fire, or you give
in to the night.

On the other side
of the world, I see you at the center

of that night, pale under the ghostly cell
of a full moon, and in that cold light I

                                                      am circling,
circling with these words, rubbing these two
green sticks against air.

Copyright © 2002 Sandra Meek All rights reserved
from Nomadic Foundations
Elixir Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission