The Graduate by Caitríona Walsh

The Graduate Caitríona Walsh On the vesper of March I pulsed through the desert, Ever the vagary Clot of the bloodline.Koutoubia's minaret Catnapped before me, Steepled in sandstone–A moonshot missileLullabied by ouds And kittens' Bare-bellied Midnight mewls.Medina mazes Assuaged by Cloud-confetti Orange blossoms–Palls of scent spun In arabesque spells Through souks Keyhole arches.I woke with Muezzin's Call to prayer, Parched, perplexed By Agafay air–Caught in my glottis As cockcrow came–Florid gown gone, No call to cross campusWith tasselled cap Like a gored Rorschach blot, The gashed wattle Of a prize grouseOr a stray tide's Red-stained froth rim–Raked far From shipwreck wraiths.Instead, I conferred With cordial drivers and Spinning-top Sufis In fractured French,Sipped rose-syrup tea In a turquoise courtyard Of a trillion druzy Star-strewn tiles,Bled, in secret, Beneath the furtive folds Of an opalite skirt– Shed my peltMore from Caitríona Walsh ↓@tone.down.the.blonde on InstagramCaitríona is a host for Gut Punch Prompts, as twice-monthly poetry contest on Instagram.You can hear me read Two Wishes by Caitríona on Instagram @rembrandts.cure.