Because of this gift
of rose-colored cliffs and a narrow gorge
which opens up its untrembling lips
and pops into view
the stucco
wall
stares,
because of this,
the racing heart of camels
and caravans make love to the desert
and the mountain
myrrh store.
A whole spectacle of gods
displaying their cheeks
and one woman calls out "al-'Uzza!",
throws spice in the springs,
and another, night after night, tells
her lover
to kiss her
beneath the moon.
Dushura in heaven,
between the altar and niche,
held his black eyes
towards such Nabataean hymns. Held them
like uncertain grasses at his ankle, and what
sprang from his mouth was "Your lurch
and sway is brightly painted!"
which fell to the sand
and stone
like myth.
Even the lovers
felt him as a fissure of the lips.
Even the woman
at the spring, tried to catch it
in the basin of her hands.
A contest entry
- Petra -- that "rose-red city half as old as time" by ea.
600 points, ended August 28, 2007, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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"Your lurch and spray is brightly painted!" How poetic an age that anyone would call out such a thing! It reminds me of something from Song of Solomon and has me grinning ear to ear. What a marvelous and joyful piece. Thank you!
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Just researching the history was poetic, so I'm glad I did it justice!
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very nicely done
Strong imagery. I could see a painting emerging from your words - each letter a brush stroke.
I really liked the warm tone of this poem, it had a strangely comfortong feel to it.
Well done.
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