Nitokris

by Megan Arkenberg

Some things do not change;

the sound of the desert

at night, the faint faraway

heartbeat of the Nile. Dust

remains dry, honey sweet,

the shadows as thick and heavy

as stone. After a thousand years

the stars still shine as bright,

her voice still echoes as deeply

in the halls of her tomb. Darkness

remains, inescapable

as a drowning man’s instinct

to gasp, vainly

for one more breath.

These too do not change;

the sound of the names

of the Pharaohs, her brothers, sons

and lovers—she tastes them

like dust and honey on her tongue.

The cries of the dying

linger in her ears, settle

in her belly like a stone.

And every night

she flees the sound of water

dripping, drowning

in her dreams.