The Balance Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

The Balance

I was in the kitchen,
Was boiling an apple,
Had added a few spices,
To cure a coughing chest.

In my mind ran poets,
From Forough to Parvin,
To Byron and T. S. Eliot,
(He, my least favorite!)

I recalled our class,
And great professor,
Priscilla, The Uppal…

She stood, explained,
How a great, wise poet,
Had observed and noted,
Glass jar keeping balance,
On a rocky and sharp edge.

I stared at the bubbles,
And the paling apple,
And trace of ginger,
As well as cinnamon.

"Can I be like James Joyce? "
I smiled and questioned,
Then I laughed and had fun:
"Like James Joyce?
Balancing the voices,
Characters, locations? "

Rolled my eyes, fell my jaw,
And with it went my heart,
Felt burning in my eyes,
So, shouted: "And why not? "

Grounding the onion,
To make sauce for pasta,
I whispered: "Not wisdom,
Onion burned your eyes! "