Glass Poetry Press

Volume One Issue Three

Weam Namou

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.