Been feeling this Tagore song

Tonight in this stormy darkness you would come to me O my Soul Mate O my Dear Friend Tonight under this tearful, gloomy sky I can't close my eyes I look at the door yet again that I left ajar for you O my Soul Mate O my Dear Friend I can't see anything in the dark I wonder if you are coming I wonder if you are coming through the banks of the river I wonder if you are coming through the dense forest I quiver thinking that you cross this immense darkness just for me O my Soul Mate O my Dear Friend. Rabindranath Tagore See the video of Rezwana Choudhury Bonna singing this beautiful song in Bengali. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PP6bUNQjhrg&feature=channel&list=UL

15 feet

It was more than the crust
the heel of the loaf
when you cut the round of the acequia away
spilled harvests of leave and husks
an ancient shale from a river of prayers
on that afternoon sliding towards winter
the wind rattled tails of elms like angry snakes
no children danced basketball steps down the dirt path from school
and the ditchrider didn't curve around the old cottonwood
stop rubber to turn iron and hook debris circling culverts
like salmon waiting at the dam.

Did you look beyond the tsunami of metal
the growl of gears
that drowned the bells of Holy Family Church
see the Comanches ghost dancing with San Ysidro
through the dust devils and hiss of ripples?

Your block wall holds the squared bank
from the bay of tumbleweeds
fluttering like old, loose headstones on empty lots
another mirage turned Aral
some dreams were sewn with a thinner thread

if you'd asked
the elders might have told you
blue lifelines mapped in their parchment of palms
carved across a silver-framed gaze
if you'd held them they might have told you
that one storm could swallow a shore
two hundred years carried in your tide.

Yasmeen Najmi



acequia is Spanish for an irrigation canal, derived from the Arabic as saquiyya.

Glass Tiles

You spilled in a shimmering wave of turquoise
lapping at sandbar boots
over a couch
a different shade of river

spoke in nested tones
of a mouth incubating eggs and seeds
feathered me with the incremental kindness
of a second encounter
a centripetal calm
that bound your limbs to torso
against other forces

I felt your windshield
against the rain of conversation
calibrated my frequency and cadence
to your single pane
you asked which skin products
kept me so young
and my mind wandered
to the mosaic of jars and bottles
tiling my bathroom counter
that only faded the darker pigments

I asked if your family's from Albuquerque
pretty sure of the answer
but needed to hear the names and stories
flow from the arroyos of your tongue
push my palo seco deeper into the flan of river’s edge
to root again

I understood when you excused yourself
a few poems in
rose and dissolved in Guadalupe rainbow apparition
your colors danced like church windows in ceremony
and the sun’s parting glance
the glass garden of my sink

the next morning
I slid your book from the shelf
poured your words into my china
and swallowed the night.

Yasmeen Najmi

Slow Dance

"There ain't nothin' hotter than jazz dancing around the old farm table with Clint."

My mom after watching The Bridges of Madison County.



Meet me on a bridge between now
and water’s edge
I want to orbit you with a look
that spins and burns the needle
into the grooves of old wood
the brands of past lovers
dance me 1/2 of a 4/4
scratch the record and move your long hand back
so my purple can settle in your valleys
the sun skins the river as it falls
my fingers carve lines in your neck
for you to read before the razor fades them
into the sobriety of mirrors
and black coffee

meet me on that bridge
because a bridge is a dance
notes are climbing twilight’s blushing ridge
so extend your gravity through the clouds
and solar storms that ring our eyes
past the gold bands holding the collision of moons
our vows are Saturn heavy
but your arms are Pluto's wings

be my Superman
fly these equatorial curves in reverse
repatriate this crime of time
just keep spinning
do not pass the bar
do not pass closing
or the last call
of the ship before it flattens into darkness
where I will stand at the shore
and breathe.


Yasmeen Najmi