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Later, She'll Remember the Mound Dissolving Behind Her
by Lyn Lifshin

where she buried a
dead child in dusty sand
on the way to the Caspian
Sea. Suddenly the baby
wouldn't nurse, turned
away from milk and
honey, wouldn't move.
The woman held her
three nights, was wild to
get to the caravanserais
where the animals and
the sick would be taken
care of but the baby
turned ash in her arms.
Nothing, no spice or gold
or precious stones
could heal her child. So
she leaves her wrapped in
papyrus and sprinkled
with perfume in the dust
that buries the small
body she hopes the wind
won't unearth for
scavengers and prey

 

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