Spells. Annie Finch

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      GHAZAL FOR A POETESS

       Many the nights that have passed,

       But I remember

       The river of pearls at Fez

       And Seomar whom I loved.

       —“Laurence” Hope, 1903

      The corners of the frontispiece yellow from their darker edges.

      Aching eyes lift in tremolo from their darker edges.

      Moon lit your blood in the jasmine-blooming gardens;

      bodies still glide in tableau from their darker edges.

      Your “hungry soul” laps at the page with its “burning, burning”;

      your moans send out an echo from their darker edges.

      Silk covers your arms, your fingers, your lips, your voice.

      Your black lines weave a trousseau from their darker edges.

      Wind strikes at the palm trees where you walked;

      fronds shake like tousled arrows from their darker edges.

      Your nights spread quiet over “parched and dreary” sand.

      Finches fill them till they glow from their darker edges.