Stranger

When the stranger came, asked 
for bread, I said Welcome, told 
the women bring linen, meat, fresh 
melons, the finest dates, figs torn 
from the valley floor. I knew 
the tales: the widow’s son, the old 
man who touched her cruse of oil.

But the stranger ate in silence. 
More Wine! I called the pantry 
maid, The best we always save 
for last. My guest pushed his plate 
away, tugged at his tie, slipped back 
into shoes beneath his chair, stood 
up to leave. Don’t go! I touched 
his sleeve, held tight. Stay the night. 
Desert sands blow cold, pack hard 
as stone. He wrestled free. I reached 
out again. Wait! You forgot my name. 
He turned, face to face, his eyes 
flames. My thigh burned hollow. 
Too late. Alone, I listened to the wind.