Saturdays are promises misspoken that carry
ammunition for the week.  We enter

a range of exhaustion,
bullet bright, concentric motifs

that rifle us past the Sun.  Mooning our loss
of respite from the race, a legion rattles

Is velocity even a question?
What deserts scorched at perihelion?

Melting sands swirl – camels in glass.
Weapons droop into ploughshares.

Still the hardened days untillable,
“until” hocked like a promissory

note.  Hooked on through dies Martis.
Humpday comes as oasis breather.

Then Fire-day our trial by splitting
the distance between caravanserai

and the Gobi-tween.  Dates blend.
Hookah left at the next pyramid.

Time burnt in offering, smoking skyward.
The camels shift nervously in their traces.

qbit has taken up my Renga Challenge as a part of Jilly’s January Casting Bricks to Attract Jade Challenge.