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Matthew Cook

 

Ghazal for the photo of the girl from Sindh whom I married

Ghazal for the photo of the girl from Sindh whom I married

Your smile suggests I’m being way
too familiar describing it this way.

Even lights peek over wall and under
branches so as not to get in the way.

Ah, poor garden, pressed brick by wall
while blossoms fall along the lawn’s way.

Did you see those blooms behind
before you looked the camera’s way?

Relaxed, open eyes, index nearly raised,
like she’s about to point out the way.

Slant-sidedly smiling in an otherwise
impish/saintly/fey way.

Lone yellow tassel on a scarlet duputta;
I’d have missed it if worn any other way.

Red as Qalandar’s shawl on thy shoulders;
thy very own mantle, thine own Glory Way.

Having rolled the sleeves of your long white
shirt, you look like your own cook in a way.

 

 

About Matt W. Cook

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