The man took his wine stained pillow
into a field
to wait
Waiting
with nib, dry as thirst,
he scratches poems in the sand
which dung beetles neatly compact
and roll away for meaningless consumption
A woman, mute by desire, brings him
day old papers and meatless sandwiches;
as sweat gathers between breast and thigh
she watches him devour her penance
He drinks from the puddle of her shadow
and feels the pull of her leaving
He reaches for her hem but instead
finds her ankle, he kisses her instep
smells earth, fertile garden
His confession, her absolution, falling
like stars from his mouth
 | Recommended Reading: Rumi: The Book of Love: Poems of Ecstasy and Longing |
1 comment:
I actually met Coleman Barks. He did a reading of Rumi at the Morrison Center. It was just wonderful. He signed a couple of his books that I bought. Well, in one, he actually wrote a couple to me, since we had talked for a bit. But if you ever want anymore reading material - I've got quite a few books on Rumi. ;)
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