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Mother of a mixed multitude, seeking
Lilith but not her flesh nor the image

of her flesh not the bone nor the clicking
of tongue not the brain wearing its damage

as mask not the mind with its false color
and not this and not that I have followed

the dim tracks of the Bedouin mother
following the girl by moon and crossroad

following the sand storm. I love rough seas.
I love their power. I’m not smart enough

to get out of their way. I want the myth
of the desert to fall in love with me.

Consume me. I call upon the mischief,
the sand, all that they call Mother Lilith.