Embassy Row starts with Morocco in salmon
cement, then Pakistan, Egypt, spaces in sand
for what will be India, turns the corner in

beauty: glazed azure, scrolled lemon, and cobalt
spiral motifs of Iran. At the sealine there’s rubble.
Tan and black nurslings, sometimes a white one, feed at

the camel souk. The falcon souk, small and deserted, is locked
since avian flu turned regalia to harness. The city’s one
suburb grows south past the bay, along the big water.

Skirted guest workers dock the day’s catch, unload
the Gulf shrimp that fills one of the sandwiches served
for high tea in the first floor café of a place built

to seem a square Aztec temple, the Sheraton Doha.
Mangroves that lined shores have donated salt flats to
fill for construction. Fewer pink stilted birds winter over.