Thirsty Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Thirsty

I am a vase
-of the soft brown clay
-there, in desert, near the caravans of
-Gavkhooni, yazd, Kerman, Koopayeh to Fesharak
-and am thirsty
-as are vases in Khayyam's poems
-and in ghazels of Hafez
-and senate of Attar,
-in whose flower shop died a simple Dervish
-for the sake of a miracle that changed the medicine man
-to Attar, the philosopher, the poet

I listen to French songs of Quebec
-and listen to Khosrow Shakibayee
-reciting poems of Foroogh-e-Farrokhzad
-and read Aristotle on poetry
-to enjoy imitation
-and be pleased by learning
-and I read Kipling
-his Jungle Book

And still feel thirty
-I see the sunset
-and the dusk
-while see me busy
-struggling to hold me
-on the horizon
-bloody and I am thirty
Thirsty
Thirsty
Thirsty
And empty, as is time

Fill me
-with wine
-with learning
-I still a child
-I crawl
-to the poppies…
-but mom saved me…
-wish had not…am thirsty