If Poet Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Library is the home to literary, is now mess
Like seabed
Bubbles the sandy mud; creatures after hunt
It is dark

Library, cemetery to the books and the files
Like shrines
Home of the pilgrimage, is crowded, crowd
Is a mass

Library, this garden for meeting, rendezvous
Like movies
Hand hiding in a hand; lip on lip maybe more
Is a scene

Concentrate if you can. And you can’t if poet
Like spy
He sees eyes, eyebrows. Hears whisper going
Round

They climb or descend; exposing loose or firm
Butt or chest
And you watch secretly showcase of varied size
It is fun

Then your mind and your thought and your pen
Like snake
In desert and making curve on sand those tracks
As if writes

Writes poem
Everything
Short, concise
Ripe, sweet