We paused from our fighting. The day broke like a bone.
Our sweat commingled, falling from our brows in drops.
The dawn sky flamed orange-red, and silence dripped through the desert.
Only days later, when the rains came slowly, then in washes,
did I wash the blood from my face and fingertips,
and the red water fell from my hands.
I cried for the loss of home, and of Esau –
Esau, whom I strained to see
when the angel and I locked shoulders,
though saw only darkness, like my father,
like a hand passing over my face.