Oasis

I wandered down a busy street looking for something to eat,
and by the street corner I found a woman in a booth serving shish kebabs.
She wore a shawl and I was curious
"Where are you from?"
She told me "Egypt" and smiled
I asked her if it's always hot over there and she could only
repeat her first answer and nod.
She cooked for me like I was one of her children,
ignoring the greasy sweat on her high cheekbones
that were round like empty bowls.
Her smile stood out to me, not because of the gaps between her teeth,
but because her smile erased the parts of her that we would name ugly.
And I saw the spirit inside her revive her body and repaint it
with tear drops and sandalwood incense,
so within these strokes appear a Mona Lisa,
wearing a sapphire cloak, her face like amber stained glass
handing me the juiciest chicken kebab I've ever tasted.
I thank her with the widest smile in years
and leave her to greet her next customer with her gapped teeth.
She occasionally wipes the Nile rivers off of her eyebrows with
her shawl, black like a rosetta stone of
maternal love decipherable by those who care
to give love in return.