Paradise has a dagger
behind her tulips
Mercy! I serve that blade—
dyed by their kiss
Who will understand this soul
deaf, dumb, forlorn—
Who knows this strange love
except the pulsing storm?
I knew a young woman
a lover, a queen—
I asked to see her
when her specter plagued my dreams
Maybe tomorrow. If there’s time
I’ll consider. Perhaps
Only the storm knows where we’ll meet
and when it will pass.
Lover? Well, now
Entertain a fantasy—
She never spoke such tender words
to me
Do you know what I am?
See my ring’s yogic powers
I raze the earth and sea
I send Heaven’s showers
The secrets of the Qur’an
twinkle, in my eye’s gleam
behind my brushed teeth
and in my dreams
Be, be! I cried to the storm
Let it be
But you do not get me, it said
The storm silenced me.
