Move away from the mahogany desk Leo stop writing those thin
sheets of paper blow out the blue candle can’t you hear the threads
snapping red green black can’t you feel the light shooting
through you lighting up your veins your arms your bald forehead
your bad skin your beautiful spine your wrinkles can’t you hear the sand
blowing through the room Pharaoh’s scribes are coming for you Leo
they’re going to take you from me they’re going to make you
a scribe unto Pharaoh you’ll live in a small brick house you’ll write accounts
you’ll write prayers you’ll be because all who can write well are part of
Pharaoh himself a kidney or a lung and there’ll be no more Leo just the
immensity of sands sliding down the sides of dunes at night because
Pharaoh is all the sands that ever were he’s that immense oh Leo run out of
the room play golf play gin rummy listen to Brahms go for a drive they’re
coming for you oh why did you have to be so intelligent Pharaoh’s
scribes wouldn’t have taken you and I can’t love
the mahogany desk and little blue candle the way you used to daddy.