Shrubs protect the back door
muscular guards close the bolts
We live concealed in the middle
around the square of the sky

above the well in the courtyard
Sometimes a sparrow hops in my hand
All of us count down the years
We have become a woman

without the permission to be so
for everyone who kneels
before the fire of the earth
burning for the unity

of the country, the bond
of the great men
who knock the code at the back
where we wash them on the bed

in words of praise
take off our robes
and kneel before the throne
of their hopefully infertile power