Sobana Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Sobana

Once a man with beard was questioned
"Where it goes? "
He listened and pondered:
"What's question? "
"Which goes up, which under, your beard, blanket? "
Man wondered and answered:
"I don't know."

Early night
Till midnight and later
No sleep and to dawn
He tried either way
Not relived, no comfort
No sleep

"You bastard..."
He shouted when fixing beard, hair
"Unaware I slept every night."
He was worn and tired.
"But thinking kept me up. What a hell..."

When ready he went out.
He headed where he must.
"You spoiled my day-night."
He complained.

"Your pierce is cute."
I told her.
Her skin revealed her; from Madras
"Does its ring ever rotate? "

She touched it and tried.
Small ring in pierce went round, round
"Yes it does."
She told me; shy, polite.

From then on
Her fingers were busy with the ring.