Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Shazea Quraishi

DEVADATTA

DEVADATTA

DEVADATTA

I’m summoned to the jasmine terrace
where he waits
reclining on the large, low bed
draped in blues and reds and oranges.
 
He’s with Sondasi’s servant girl
– her gaze is lowered, his
rests on her breasts, where a blush blooms
above her open blouse.
 
Her waist is a handspan, her hips
high and wide. 
During the love act, he moves my legs
to one side
 
so she will see as he enters me.
He doesn’t look at me,
but, over my shoulder, watches her
small, heart-shaped face.
Close

DEVADATTA

I’m summoned to the jasmine terrace
where he waits
reclining on the large, low bed
draped in blues and reds and oranges.
 
He’s with Sondasi’s servant girl
– her gaze is lowered, his
rests on her breasts, where a blush blooms
above her open blouse.
 
Her waist is a handspan, her hips
high and wide. 
During the love act, he moves my legs
to one side
 
so she will see as he enters me.
He doesn’t look at me,
but, over my shoulder, watches her
small, heart-shaped face.

DEVADATTA

Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
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