No-one mentions Athel trees
Or the hamburger sand there
Blown in sheets
Jerusalem ought to choke rock sales
Voodoo (and concerned with black males)

Save the bullheads from the plot
Pocketed bullets from the sailor’s lot
Some burned pigs, wandering, lost there
Tooth marked (and concerned with welfare)

Mark the boundary with weeds
Buried treasure, in walls, unseen
But with destruction, uncovered
Voodoo (our time there discovered)

No-one mentions Athel trees
And the fact that they don’t have
any leaves
Why do I want to go back there?
Voodoo (and concerned with what’s bare)

Pare thin sentence from wry thought
Filter sand from these dry locks
Nestled tightly in his breath
Lies (the truth, adjacent depth)

Extracted vassal of the Rock
Shorn in lands without a flock
Consumed and sculpted by child’s care
Voodoo (and concerned with black hair)