Signal Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

n the car on the road, straight, side to side, turn around
And four lanes look at cars, their drive
Suddenly a siren, Red Truck and slams on breaks to stop
She’s in pink, on grass and a bus and two cars, road blocked.
“What is wrong? ” comes to mind.
Curious is mankind.
We stop by order but must go; we should find some way out.
Remains thought.
“What is wrong? ”
Is question piercing and flies to sky.
Ambulance is coming, in front, blue lights.
“What is wrong? ” is a ghost that follows; witches hunt.
Birds are gone,
Migrated, some remain, in the cold on wire like the notes of concert on wires.
To observe head turn right.
Grim is low cloud.
Stingy are slots to sky.
Obscure, like woman in the pink on roadside is the life.
Roads cross
Steeles is west to east,
North to south is Don Mills,
4000 is my base.
Rabbit hole’s good to die.
These worthless are in line,
All the heads white, greys
These harmless and useless creatures better die; so must I.
When love died,
When care died,
When respect or
Custom and home-ness is buried better gone than alive,
I must die.
These leeches at the door in wheelchairs, with crutch chitchatting for nothing but nagging or bluffs best to go, better die.
Bury us at the root of grass and trees.
What’s the use of this life?
Why stay, why remain when useless?
Best for me is helping to pack life, to end it.
Help me die while walking on my feet and having dignity.