WEDDING PROPOSALS
I.
She circles the room,
the two men cross-legged
on woven flowers,
her kohl-lined eyes downcast
to the fringe
of their shining loafers
the fluted foot
of a samovar, henna
petals on her toes.
“Look, my child has no flaws,
no need to give ear to rumors,”
her father tells the intended
father-in-law
who’s in Srinagar for the viewing
months before the wedding.
Intended father-in-law
shakes her father’s hand
deal-sealed.
He gives her filigreed silver
wedged heels with pointed tips
too big for the girl she was
bunions not yet formed.
–March 1938
For my grandfathers’, experts des objects d’ art.
II.
Again I ease her palm into mine
We stroll on the beach
Frangipani petals
Rushlight of dusk
Inks of her sarong
My bruised jeans
Gods on horses
Spark the horizon
It’s a sign I know
What sign?
I want you to be my wife
Ask me again—she jolts me
And again her gritty palm is mine
Bending a knee I ask
Will every flower from Kenya
to Kashmir bloom?
–March 1998
For Tabish Din, again.
by Rafiq Kathwari, guest poet at 3 Quarks Daily