Outskirt Of Time Poem by fraidoon warasta

outskirt of time
is today a new day? i thought yesterday,
i opened the curtains. outside, grey, cold.

even the flowers of the curtains withered
bruised, their colours broken. their butterflies,

thrown away and scattered. on the outskirt of time,
how long would it take me to get to the other

shore. how long would it take me to go through
this illusory existence. that time should halt

in my favour. i try to make tea, only for myself,
confused, indecisive, which flavour should i choose?

more than a hundred sit in my
kitchen cupboard. i see my shadow, playing

in the garden. between the floating scent of
roses. i pull a thorn from my thumb.


fraidoon warasta
may 2020
limburg