Alma Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Alma

You are specialist
You an academic
You go to library
You, a dictionary
An apple, English
Manzana, Spanish
It’s Toffah Arabic
In Farsi saying sib
An Alma, Turkish

I confess; you know
Approve you, aware

But I

I know apple’s taste
When’s unripe-green
When fallen off tree
In winter that smells

Is your word capable; telling me how it tastes?

Take your books and schools.
Go to hell where you deserve.
You’re free to call me “Crazy”.