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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