plain as a window pane, Jen
sighed at her weight
and tucked a sachet
in the sash at her waist
a coy addition,
a small ornament, but,
like the little wave in her hair
and the absence of guilt
in her mist-pale eyes, frowned on
by her grandparents and straight-laced sects.
On another plane,
a gin-swizzled jinn sighs
over fish. In the marble pool
beside her, gilt-scaled koi sashay
through bending lily stems to spawn.
Such a waste, to be over-sexed here.
A pain to wait for a lover her size,
with armament. To sire a jinn. And wit.
To make her grandparents waive their objections.