He brings a harsh heat into the room;
stones among sand: "You see me?"
I nod, reach for the warm whiskey
as he crouches on the chair
with the snapped back, his almond mouth
bitter within its shallow beard.
He says: "I need a vengeance. My grave
has room for another, a brother
to lie in his furrow by my bones.
I can pay you in camels, or goats."
Behind me the sky in the broken window
bloods clouds, marks the fall of the sun.
In the street below, shouts; the bark
of a car. "Am I your brother's seeker?"
"These are good camels," he smiles,
"and Judgement Day draws close."