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Shiraz By: Marileta Hunsford

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Shiraz
By: Marileta Hunsford


Your name, the caress of shadows on a white, stone wall

falls heavy in my ear.

It shatters on my drum and I hear the muezzin’s cry in the distance.

Your eyes, two lit candles in dark windows, hypnotize me until all I see

Are the sweet orange groves of your promises

—never the bitterness of the fallen fruits.

Your wind, a long-fingered hand in my hair, carries cardamom and a hot musk

through me until all I can do is quake.

I walked a month in your fragrant streets,

tasting the spiced air and always believing I would find the feast.

But, though I fainted with hunger,

though I searched your scorched streets and touched every wall in hope,

All you gave me, were those bitter windfalls and the echo of a shouted prayer.


About the Author


Marileta Hunsford is a current graduate student who lives in Greenwood, Indiana.

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