Maghreb

by Brandon Marlon (August 2016)

Swart villagers compelled by the magnet of loot

suborn mulish asses during a nighttime jaunt

toward snow-capped peaks of the High Atlas

in a quest to encounter the Berber marabout

reputed to be encaved in a vaulted cavern

hoarding riches amassed from votaries.

 

At the base of the heights the pack animals,

firm of frame and fine of feature, abruptly resist,

displaying their independent temperament

and an eldritch awareness of the mischief to come.

The villagers forgo all quarrel, snatching up sacs

designated for spoils then clambering over scree,

cadges in search of a doddering codger.

 

Footsore and wayworn, they discover at last

the remote marabout hunched over a prayer rug,

kowtowing eastward, immersed in muttered verses

and oblivious to their uninvited presence,

unaware as they disperse to comb his subterrane

for lucre rumored to astound the sighted.

 

The sedate figure stirs as his guests regroup

empty-handed, lorn in their frantic pursuit of pelf.

Seemingly abristle, the marabout cannot help

grin at the predation of scapegraces

credulous and susceptible to hearsay,

succumbing to overheated imagination.

 

he assures them of his scanty assets,

instead beguiling them with a wondrous

store of lore to defy the gloom until

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