Shadab Z. Hashmi

Ghazal of the Superstitious Darling

You brush your long hair far from the oak, the tamarind’s shadow, my superstitious darling

You spit and toss the tangled tresses to be safe from the jinn, and all that’s vicious, darling

Bad luck vaulted across your obsidian threshold (a velvety cat romping with a rabbit foot),

tied itself into the knots of your trousseau rug which we’d thought auspicious, darling

What message was encrypted in a woolen rug by weaving desire into loss, flame into ash

This lovely handspun contention is no less than an extravagant hint, my judicious darling

Not the kohl dot on your neck, not the hand trained to wave thrice to avert your demons

Not esfand, not turmeric, kept you from being eaten— fate’s maw is malicious, darling

You struck the enemies with shock and awe, smoked them out of their living rooms

They cast the evil eye just before execution, when you were least suspicious, darling

You ordered robes of fire-proof textiles, goblets of amethyst, amulets of bloodstone

Your superpower-needs for protection left the planet bankrupt, my ambitious darling

Look, the lovely tropical paisleys, the arctic-blue blossoms on your trousseau rug

No nuptial bliss as exquisite as art— the true magic carpet ride, my capricious darling

Zeest, come, unravel the day to the song of the koel, the magpie, the scent of wild moss

You’ve burnt the sage, sprinkled the salt— let them wish the harm they wish us, darling