#poem #poetry #amwriting the muslim's tale xiv

sometimes in sport they swapped veils
these sisters so alike in build and height
with faces misted masked they might
doolia for lotvia appear at phantom glance

but such games began to grow in spite
as each impatient of desired destiny
sought in the secret mirror of the mind
to find angel' sign of accident virginity

though closeted in apartments lush
without material hint of want nor wish
they knew enough of bees and flowers
and the stamen touched in midnight hours

and so between them grew an enmity
of vanity in each other's virtue
what use to lotvia in unviewed beauty
or merit in doolia's selflessness

like surgeons each remark dissected
in fretful hours in adjoining rooms
for codes a laugh was deep inspected
for each blamed each for their fate

but who would guess when in the evening
to hear harmonious lute and flute
echo the music of spheres slow turning
that desperate murderous thoughts had rooted

the genteel toughened fingers itched
picked at time and pinched the breath
perhaps - each thought - only one could love
perhaps - it best if the price were cleft