Desert.

White stone, tile floor cool the feet

that have walked miles in my mind

searching.

The call to prayer from the nearby mosque

coats my skin with cumin 

smells of longing

smells of cardomom-scented turkish coffee

smells of god, sounds of god

hunger for god overpowers me

as the magenta sky dyes

my white linen dress, absorbing beads of sweat

from honey-colored skin.

Eggs sizzle in the pan.

Crisp white linen uniform of the chef

who offers Western omelette

to a Western woman

overlooking a Western sky.

The aroma of prayer feeds the masses

and in me it awakens a desire so strong

I cry

gulp down air to soothe the rocks

of a hopeless throat.

Jaffa is a haze

pushing me deeper

into the tile floor, into searing sand.

And still longing remains. Longer

and longer I wait

reach out to grasp this haunting

sound, this smell that makes me

ache ache ache.

Arms pinned to my sides, I

cannot touch what I already know

cannot touch what I already feel

cannot smell god wafting

into orifices of my body

with the strange scent of a man

soul of a woman.

Heart treads on sand

with the sole of my shoe,

calloused membranes

hardened salty blood encasing

magenta organs over Western sky

Western omelette grown cold

in a white China plate

white China doll breaks

to know what she already knows

feel what she already feels

melting into pools of longing

seas of desire drifting into distant prayer.

Jaclyn Piudik's poems have been published in WV Magazine, the Poetry in Performance Anthology, Columbia Poetry Review, and Barrow Street; her book reviews in American Book Review and Sojourner. She is the recipient of a New York Times Fellowship for Creative Writing, the Alice M. Sellers Award from the Academy of American Poets, and the Goodman Fund Grant for Excellence in Creative Writing, in addition to several academic awards. She has taught at the City College of New York and various community-based organizations, whose special focus is teaching creative writing to children.