Sunday, April 28, 2013

Marked in Damascus (Poem)

Marked in Damascus

You prune, snipping
away what's failed

to thrive in sand
and heat and dust,

you, raising a desert
storm's lament of love,

its echoes uncountable
in the splintered wood

of ouds. Deep in a tangle
of sweet white jasmine

vines, the Levant viper
uncoils, its head already

marked. I hear you
hiss before it strikes.

© 2013 Maureen E. Doallas


Louise Gallagher said...

I am in awe of your ability to say so much with so few words.

Beautiful and powerful!

S. Etole said...

Yes to what Louise said.