Turkish Bazaar
Farrah Sarafa

Boxes, pearl laden and checkered with Sahara gold,
he carries in a plethora of new bags;
plastic, Moroccan velvet, and Tunisian linen hold
Hieroglyphic silver plates and chained cartouches
Qur’anic with Arabs’ pains
                     retold.

I have another gift for you,” he shares.

Grand pink argeela trimmed with fur painted gold;
amber-incensed myrrh, green pears.

Papyrus memories eyed, Horus eyed
Have tried to reincarnate desert “evils.”

        “He makes up for the other men in my life
               who donít shop,”
says mom.

Beads woven onto strings,
your care cobra snake-weaves empty sand
spaces between prayer rings.

You spent two months in Egypt, my brother,
        and brought back all these things!