Did they call before the collapse? Are they really ok? Why don’t they call again? Did they hear the sighs and lamentations which rose up from the debris? Did they hear the three sections of the poem? Could you have said those things and pretended that the sand wouldn’t fill it also, it would never work the other way around, with your mouth singing so so freely THE SONGS OF SCOTLAND BEFORE BURNS as sung by the beautiful, and highly tuneful, the endless roll of the dunes. Did those songs call out for me? When I knelt to the ground, to listen for breathing, to watch the chest to see if it rises and falls, I discovered that it was entirely salt. I picked up a nice little hunk of it to bring home as an ideal free replacement for your spit and tears, unchanged, alike.

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