The Last Camel Died at Noon--
just the title of that mystery raises
the right metaphor to capture any day
you dwell desperate, alone, self-absorbed
You can imagine a trek across a desert,
a wretched trek of great distance
where you get lost in the brilliance
of the desolate land, but hot sun and sand
In the shadow of the fix you're in, alone
excepting the camels who bear your burden,
you quench only your thirst until in time
one by one the camels drop
All by yourself
you count on some other to save you
and there is none;
nor will there be
Elizabeth Peters, The Last Camel Died at Noon, 1991
