Coming to Sumer

Coming to Sumer and the tamarisks on the river I Ezra with unsettling love rifled the mud and wattle huts for recent mournings with gold leaves and lapis lazuli beads in the neat braids loosening from the skull Looking through the wattles to the sun I said It has rained some here in this place unless snow falls heavily in the hills to do this The floor was smooth with silt and river weeds hanging gray on the bent reeds spoke saying Everything is even here as you can see Firing the huts I abandoned the unprofitable poor unequal even in the bone to disrespect and casual with certainty watched an eagle wing as I went to king and priest