F.3 Poem - Boys
In the Desert by Matthew Sweeneyby John Rice


Wrapped in my camelhair rug
I’m camouflaged
out here in the desert.
My feet make no sound on the sand.
The sky is crawling with stars.

I shout, and it echoes
all the way to the sea.
No answering cry comes back to me.
I could be the last boy,
I could be up on the moon.

Nothing but flat for miles,
the occasional bone
strewn on the sand.
I take one back with me
to help bury my parachute.

I check my compass
and head due south-east.
A light wind covers my footprints.
I have no need of water.
I’ll hit the oasis by dawn.