Sun-baked, mud bricks encase the remembrance of light in this mortared embracement. So long ago, I fixed my determination to hide my blended face from the scorn of the people who would shine the flickering lights of their delighted disgust upon me. Now I have passed into myth.

But today, into this dreary, dusty, dream
comes the scent of a man:
sand and sandalwood and scepticism.
Can he feel my endless, animal breath,
perfuming these lacklustre walls?
Does he seek my honey, hybrid kiss
light as a floating memory?
Turn my hero, and turn again
in the labyrinth of my unbelievable solitude,
until all reason leaves you
and you can believe, once again, in monsters.

Author BIO: After a twenty year period of procrastination Deborah Walker has started to write speculative fiction and poetry. She has had poetry accepted by Scifaikuest, Outshine, AlienSkin, and Dreams and Nightmares.