Treasure Island

Nassy Fesharaki

(Dec 29 / Iran)

A winter to be registered


A winter to be registered

An hour
Maybe more
I wrote; wrote many words
A poem that I loved
A winter, special that should be registered
Of the wind bringing crystals and mirrors, particles
Frozen and shiny, detained ice by current, between walls
As we were, as we are
And the lad, shade of beard in black, soft and thin; bird's shadow
And shadows, long and tall, both inside and outside
Made by the shining sun that stopped; shiny now
Weak like ant or baby that is just born
And still connected to mother
It had rhyme and meter
But later appeared
A young chap
With paper
In moment
My poem
I lost
What
Fog-like went; it was gone

And in tears I read book
Book of pains, asylum and the laws
Refugees and so on but it was, most of all
Lawyers talk like mullahs
Much too much
Very sweet
Fruitless

I am back
Think of the poem
I’d seen belt, black-wide
Like winter, special
I’m ladies’
Also saw
Her butts’ crack
Unconcerned
She was busy with her books. Studied in winter; cold winter, special and must be registered.

Submitted: Monday, January 27, 2014

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