Sink Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Sink

In Khojand where I lived for a year
Forcefully and with love and with pain
I needed house, shelter.
To a house, a Russian's, I was led.
One can write many books
Plenty stories can be told of after Gorbachev.
Thousands of white Russians bewildered;
Some remained in place of their births
Their parents, Kremlin's top agents
Had crossed the bridge that were burned
Now nothing before them, and tunnel a dead-end.
Remaining as slave after years
Of ruling, and bossing
Treating the locals as if were animals
No brain…? ? ?
The feeling of revenge everywhere
As it is; and must
As righteous right of rights
I know and I have seen
In Iran and Andes
USA, Canada of CANUS
Rhodesia but not for Mandela…

For me and in that time
Closed eyes
My need was simple bed
I would pay

"Can I see the kitchen? " I questioned.
Soon-after rejected
Her sink was piled with mess.

People hide in garments and make-ups
Appear in bedrooms and kitchens.

Her sink was her mirror
Today I hate myself
Come see mine…