Hands out, palms
cupped together, I take
what Mustafa pours.
Not the simple rosewater
any other Turk would give me,
no. Mustafa offers
his Ralph Lauren cologne,
a bowlful if my hands
could make a bowl, as much
as he has, and he would pour--
I'm convinced, as my hands
overtake my breath once more--
pure perfume if he had
perfume to pour.
--Paulann Petersen
From Blood-Silk, Quiet Lion Press, 2004.
You may use poems from this web site for non-commercial purposes only. Poems must be used in their entirety, including any citations or acknowledgements listed at the bottom of the page. For more information, contact Paulann .