Читать книгу Spells - Annie Finch - Страница 32

GHAZAL FOR A POETESS

Many the nights that have passed,

But I remember

The river of pearls at Fez

And Seomar whom I loved.

—“Laurence” Hope, 1903

The corners of the frontispiece yellow from their darker edges.

Aching eyes lift in tremolo from their darker edges.

Moon lit your blood in the jasmine-blooming gardens;

bodies still glide in tableau from their darker edges.

Your “hungry soul” laps at the page with its “burning, burning”;

your moans send out an echo from their darker edges.

Silk covers your arms, your fingers, your lips, your voice.

Your black lines weave a trousseau from their darker edges.

Wind strikes at the palm trees where you walked;

fronds shake like tousled arrows from their darker edges.

Your nights spread quiet over “parched and dreary” sand.

Finches fill them till they glow from their darker edges.