This one may be a day late, but since the aim is to produce 30 poems in 30 days, I still have time to catch up. For those of you wondering why only a few poems have made it onto here, it's because I'm selfishly hoarding the rest, revealing only short samples on Facebook and Twitter.
Here's today's effort:
They put their chisels to her name,
and in a chattering of bronze
on bronze, she turned to crumbs of stone.
The Nile yawned and stretched, spine-like,
as the nation woke from a dream
remembered in uneasy frescoes,
as a sentence with the nouns torn out.