Inured to tribal carousal, she spurns
the dinning ado of caravaneers
glutting their paunches with handfuls
of rice spiced with cardamom
and lubricating their gullets
with nips of anisette or absinthe.
She is quarantined by custom
and glad of it, wearied by the prate
of nomads cloying and crapulous,
whose inebriety displeases her tastes
and whose tawdry bawdry
is an offense to her refinement.
Though her husband contends that
houses are the graves of the living,
she disdains the waterless backwater
they now call home, pining instead
for more cultivated environs where
aspirations, not just appetites, are satisfied.
On such nights she dresses her tresses
with pomatum and nurses dreams
of reciting verses before rapt crowds
lauding her poise and prowess
and demanding repeat performances,
admitting her indispensable presence.
About The Author
Brandon Marlon is a writer from Ottawa, Canada. He received his B.A. in Drama & English from the University of Toronto and his M.A. in English from the University of Victoria. His poetry was awarded the Harry Hoyt Lacey Prize in Poetry (Fall 2015).