She’s got hands that don’t bend right but she pulls him out of the sea
His face is sunken rivers as he breaths, water’s a wide ringing jewel
The bus is holding breath and avoiding him- he’s drunk, loud, sitting on a bucket
A woman’s admonishment hits him and he grabs it, it’s like she’s pelting jewels
She’s on the edge of everything, growing tower of brains and eyes and hands
Set shimmering against the endless ocean- she’s a body of solidifying jewels
Kid’s watching his thinner classmates, feeling from across the bus aisle
Distance as his hands interlace, she’s across from him, a breathing jewel
The market’s a blur of crafty new yorkers, she’s here to secure a memory
Hands thread through vintage chains and fifties brooches; she’s buying jewels
He’s got hands that mix automatically and eyes that seem like they’ll listen
But the bar’s too heavy for him- their stories hit the floor like shattering jewels
Deep night moves to cloak her and she lets it hold her hand as she leaves
Their laughter inside criss-crosses the night and her tear’s a running jewel
-Cristina
Note: This poem is my first attempt at writing a Ghazal. For more information on Ghazals, click here.
bug club (minus one) 