Rising sun upon the smoke clouds, and you,

Dragged out of bed, out of sleep, traversing

The rising city upon mountains of dust,

Challenge the glare, defy the sun.

Betrayed, the light won’t set upon your face

At sunset, leaving streaks of orange

And pink over the fields, over the city,

But you, expectant and resigned,

Lie on the rug, offering up your face.