Palimpsests (Edit)

I feel the fibrous reed in the papyrus,
the 'glyphs are holy in the eye of Horus:
the holy writing sends your blasphemy
to your loving brother. I imagine the kohl
melting in the saline from your own eye.

Whose hand lies under this?

The parchment retains the grain from the skin
the creature sacrificed for your missive.
Faded whorls and curlicues describe
your complex relationship with another
whose name you dared not even write.

Whose life scrawls over this?

Yellowed vellum in my dusty hand,
dried sand in the once black ink
scratches my fingertips. I read the words
-softly touched with your lips -
long before their banishment to archives.

Whose note defaces this?