She Called Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

She called

Had put her on the rack
-high, close to the roof
-to forget and forgive
-throw out and get rid

That, is it
That, is it
That, is it

Had judged her different
-on the first encounter

"She can be a friend
-cohabit and helper
-can be a commenter
-on my works;
-scripts and poems."

Dreams were in frames
-of movie; fast forward
-she, the main character.

Our meeting was comet
-fast and far, in heavens
-and ended rapidly
-as soon as we did reach
-the ground…

I gave her my contacts
-had nothing to get back
-so, crazed with thinking
-was Majnoon, in waiting!

A call came suddenly
-a woman: "Come pick me! "

I wondered: "Who can be? "

"Janitor, it must be! "
-I murmured but was she.
-and we went for drink…
She behaved sort of odd
-once again, had been wrong

Alcoholic and drunk
-bar woman and a con

Kooh-e-Noor but shattered,
-young pageant; a proud now fallen
-a condor or eagle but the wings broken

And ignored…

Everything had gone wrong
-capable is to write
-excuse she had found
-so, she called

"Can I read some poems? "
-I agreed and listened
-feelings were excellent
-true in perfection; well-framed.

I told her what I should
-straight, intimate and in face
-unlike rude dictators…
-I spoke frank, kind
- "I feel your deep inside!
-am not fool, so, stop…
-no more me with you and
-no more Gin; not in bar! "

Found her tone of speech
-as was at first two times
-bottle-fed; a child of alcohol
-a drunk and out of control…

Her thoughts, mind, different
-played games of goblet
-raise-glass-and refill off bottle:
- "Am sober; have not had
-even sip after that…"
-so, she lied more than had…
- "Call it end my friend! Is over! "