The Lay of Ayishah (4)

"The Girl with Red Lips" © 2016 David Prashker

To listen to an audio recital of the poem, click here

Ah, how we danced!

My lady held a plaster doll
   and a mask over her face
      depicting her own face

Her shawl
         woven in filigree
   wound around her like a ring

Weeping for the children she had never had
   she cast my own face on a bronze coin
      and thus paid tribute to my generosity

Until the day breaks
         and the shadows flee away
   turn, my beloved
and be like a roe
      or a young hart
            on the mountains of Beit-Er


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