In the Noon of Arziyan

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You who home the sorrow soft as tulum
blue into nights chanting Sufi nasheeds

The way we learn to arc body
and unhook the cosmos aimed at Capricorn

You who flip the long road strewn with betelnut
comes back as amber, lotus burns, lanterns

voodooing the bougainvillea carpet. Outside
our universe contains twenty Babylon gods
polishing terrazzo for teeth

You who sleep on the dust watching over
snake-charmers slither fire into the rubato
of a palanquin

You who unblurs the guru with ayurveda
adds milk to his tea cardamom strong, the cannabis
growing between thigh and navel

You who picks gems sweating on her nose
smooth as pashmina. The fajr elegance
of an amethyst morning

You who dream of daggers
prodding from womb to womb, the beloved’s
feet on hibiscus-water sold as song

You who phrase the rose mahal
too lovely as hummingbirds in silk
tearing tendrils on her palm spat out from prayer.

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_{*Fajr - the first of the Muslim prayer observed at dawn}

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