Marriage Ghazal

Holy matrimony eviscerating doubt while propagating joy
with tender laps you devour the zest of me.

Your touch smooth and cool a concrete fountain spouting curves of water
from the mouths of angels, you tower over the mess of me.

First sight when I wake, your back, a beach littered in half-buried shells,
trace your skin to close the gap between you with the rest of me.

Anger revealed met with your empathy, my humanity cherished 
you choose to see the best of me.

Gold reflected in your eyes you proliferate warmth, clementine-hued lamp,
millions of embraces provide power in the chest of me.

Entropy and fate, we end up in the same poetry class and DJ training sessions.
You are my friends-to-lovers romance trope, planting flowers atop the crest of me.

Ode to the Florists
with immaculate handwriting
who etch out the romanization
of Farsi to English
no questions asked
because my husband can’t 
write in Farsi and
because I can’t
read in Farsi
but I taught him
how to say kiss, my flower, 
small, my heart
and now the florists know
how to write 
booce kocheek and golam
and del-baram
and maybe one day I
will learn how to write
                                                بوسه های کوچکبوسه های کوچک
without looking it up
to teach my husband to write
                                                بوسه های کوچکبوسه های کوچک
and he can teach the florist to write
                                                بوسه های کوچکبوسه های کوچک
so I know he is delivering little kissing 
along with the bouquet of roses