Glass: A Journal of Poetry Volume One Issue Three
My Brother’s Wife
She brought along clothes, high heels and gold
But no resumes or diplomas
Her magistrate was in her glance, her touch,
Her movements
Her name is Zena
Translation: decoration
She entered our home in autumn
Inhabited the fourth and largest chamber
She fried tomatoes using extra care
Mopped each ceramic in fine detail
Climbed the stairs with passion
Looked at my brother with patience
Watching her perform, I found surrender was her name
Mine, intelligence
She tiptoed closer to my space
Smelled disinterest and ran the other way
One day she slipped between the crack of my bedroom door
And gave me her dress to keep
I wore it and recalled what it is to please
I borrowed the depth of her life's embrace
Then gave the dress to my sister.