The Seed Of... Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

The Seed of…

With every seed that I throw in trash
I recall the nine eleven crash
I bury the palm tree
From which, men
Can eat, feed
Children
The poor and refugees.

What a shame
I see me with modern life in city.

Total waste
Uselessness is the base
The trees here are high rises
Full of cubicles
As offices
Bedrooms and showers.

Come dear raccoon and squirrel
Let me feed you with the dates' seeds
If not…

Oh my God…
Crazy I am and alone…
"Old-fashion and out of time, "
I am called….

"How can one eat this junk? "
I am asked
I smile…

Bitter like the wings on drum
Of metal…
Or possibly on a barrel
No more wooden, nor natural…