The desert heat held us apart,
 Two strangers forced together
 By circumstance and sand. 
 The traders’ stop behind us, 
 We hurried on. 
  
 Ahead, an oasis 
 We’d heard of 
 From travelling poets; 
 Soft, wet soil
 Darkened by life. 
 Waters to gorge on and 
 Lose our memories 
 Or bathe in and become immortal. 
  
 The moon there shone 
 Cold, bare, sickly yellow 
 On cracked salt flats 
 And dried bones 
 Of lakes turned to ash 
 A million years ago, 
 When I was a child.
  
 Or perhaps it was the other way round? 
 The memory is difficult now, 
 In this wet place, 
 Beneath these trees, 
 I summon starlight. 
 But darkness remains,
 Muffled by the leaves. 
 I fled here, 
 After you revealed 
 Yourself to me. 
 I saw your true nature 
 And raced over sands, seas, peaks. 
  
 Or so I lie to myself. 
 It’s easier. 
 You drove me out. 
 Saw me for what I was. 
 Cast me into darkness. 
 Hurtling past the barrier 
 And the unyielding gate. 
  
 I hear no tales of you.
 Do you wander still? 
 I saw you once, in a market 
 Not far from here. 
 Although we spoke 
 Like flesh that knew one another, 
 It wasn’t you, 
 And I wasn’t me. 
  
 The moon is cold here too. 
 Sodium-bright, devouring 
 All the sounds, 
 Leaving only memories and desire 
 Colder than desert nights.