Dried Dead Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Dried dead

Lie on the floor with their backs curved
-in sky their legs but not rub the bellies

They are dead and dried
-cockroaches are seen
-here and there
-now, then

They remind me of the mulberry boughs
-fallen from the huge trees
-sawed by the man
-or by winds

They are all brown and in shades,
-lighter ones males, dark, female

They add to flavour of curiosity's spice
-did they have sex?
-did they give birth?
-killed at childbirth?

Then I laugh
-laugh loud,
-laugh very loud
-see me in madhouse
-'You are doubtlessly a poet, crazy!
-and Pound's student
-and Milton's disciple
-and Rumi's and Saadi's and Roudaki's
-and….and…and…

I recall the bombs…as she called them
-set to kill the cockroaches

I laugh
-loud
-louder
-and louder
-'Their legs replace
-the mid-finger, which they do not have…
- they are using the forbidden ‘F' for you as loser…"