Ghazal of Jealousy
I want to know how you slept with him, the way you held him.
Every crevice through which my shadow may ink itself.
The more I tell you of my happiness, the more unhappy I am.
That you are not part of it, that you do not covet it for yourself.
Green eyes, green fingers, of the evergreen forest.
Between the foilage are thorns, and they too do not die.
Oh, I would have swept it all cleanly, with one gesture of the hand.
If I had not seen his hand in mine, sweeping the hair over your eyes.
The plates are shattering, the wind speed-reading my notebooks.
And only my cultivated numbness could perceive it all as music.
Let it go, choon, for surely you are too large for their world.
You will never find your balance on the isthmus between their lips.
your words entering the head like a knife;
a girl's hands slicing the heart in two.
