Published by Sarasvati Magazine (Issue 9)
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I dream that when I wake, the dogwood
Tree beyond the porch- embroidered
Full with starlings- leans out,
Crooked over saltless ocean.
I have a new body, the lip
Of the castle keeps the slosh
And suck of water steady
By dhows passing
Under creased sails,
As origami paper threaded back
Under a smallest sun.
From warm nests I take those blue eggs
To give to you, early morning,
The smell of tangerines
And clary sage from our
Walled garden kiss
Your nostrils when you come,
With your torn bread
And Persian eyelashes.
I want to love
You in Damascus,
On some deserted shore-
You’ll wear marcasite on your fingers,
Raw silk, box pleated
In jewel colours, yam
In the hand you
Lend me stepping
Over pools, (these scalding
Tears I wake to).
There are broken almonds
In my unmade bed. Wait for me.
I will give up my home.
