La Cuba

reading jafar uthman al-mushafis

her lap shone out a handspan a narcissus
its smell barely noticeable – there was only
this – pale skin – a narrow foreleaf
only darker towards the seam
a crease in a white skirt
the fragrance inside when it opened just
full – the pleated seam spliced slightly
along the pistil – light red – one could almost
make out a chalice – I snapped it
below the stem – a light fluff
around the shoot – fingers tipped gently
before her lap – she whose name I don’t say
who I like you jafar held in my arms and now crave