"Greetings, Sailor"
By Christine Stoddard
Don't creak like a door in the night anymore, tired ocean traveler.
The Arab's little wife will lick away your strife, those quixotic tears
streaming down your tender cheek and past your crooked beak
into the mounds of good food she prepared just for your arrival.
She knows the gentle art of flavoring; how to cook like a peasant
and eat like an Egyptian queen pleasantly plucking cotton blooms
beneath the dooming sun that fluttering palm leaves barely mask.
Rest your stained heels as she rubs the arches of your meaty feet
and you sink deeper and deeper into the throes of Saharan heat.
Dream that the sweet-eyed woman feels the same warmth for you
as the long strands of steam dancing from your plate into the air.
Posts
0 comments:
Post a Comment