Harlow's Prayer

"It spreads, like rivers from my African belly."

What?

Was the old lady foreshadowing a betrayal?

I turned my back at the sun.

There might be better clouds ahead,

above the orchard

where my baby used to play the blues.

Apples, and pepper and I'm already there, back there.

But the orchard vanished: a mirage.

Another unfinished tale.

I saw a man running a knife through a tree.

I looked again.

No one.

I was a pillar of salt.

Lot, where are you?

I turned my back at the sun

and Amy withdrew her eyes from the meadow because the rain had drowned her sunrise.