As You Say

Amber tea

swimming

with leaves,

fragrant steam

bedewing

my nose –

tea-cup stratified in tawny, ocher and ochre.

I’ve forgotten the first –

undoubtedly

placed in my hands

filled

to the brim with demand,

served

in virgin-white porcelain,

sipped

through resignation,

eyes soaking up steam,

leaves

stuck between teeth

bared in a wide smile –

as you should.

The air smells of pita bread

smothered

in feta cheese,

no Nutella in sight –

bites slowly

roll

down my throat,

tea grows tepid –

quickly, don’t you have work to do?

Sundays are for studying –

biology tests

consume

my day,

frequent as they are –

nothing worth it comes easy, dear.

Readings for English –

unimportant,

focus

on

the

future –

you will make a great doctor.

Hair

flows down my back,

a straight

waterfall –

satiny and pristine,

born from a super-compressed

mane

of knotted curls,

always

placidly floating

never

wildly streaming.

Brides have smooth tresses,

zereshk-stained lips,

sun-lit golden eyes

twirling hands –

happy,

as you will be.

His gaze

flickers

to the sound of applause,

light like an ocean wave

undulating

for the moon –

our eyes meet:

his ever-widening smile

steals

luster from his regard. –

what a nice grin he has,

so handsome,

yes?

Silver-white walls

scattered

with empty frames,

awaiting

child-filled memories –

furniture flawless,

smelling

of antiseptic money and artisans –

you are both doctors, after all.

The lone purple pillow,

afloat

on the wide ocean that is our bed

constitutes one

dash

of color in the house –

you insisted.

In autumn,

tress blaze,

leaves gliding like a

snowstorm of wildfire set alight in rain –

opaque windows

smear

mosaics everywhere,

a glass-stained oasis

distorting reality,

bathing

me in kaleidoscopes of illusions –

back away, its dangerous!

Nature

is

beloved

by all Iranians –

clean bubbling of a brook,

cheerfully chirping songbirds,

gales coaxing hair into dancing,

redolent plants permeating the air

tingling our nostrils –

such life gives liveliness, no?

Naturally,

family picnics are a must –

the kids adore

these

picturesque events –

look, all your walls are finally covered.

Their births

exhausted,

as did conception –

a perfectly matching set,

one carved out of us each

but

inseparable:

a peculiar blessing –

proof you’re meant to be.

First beholding them,

so reminiscent of ET,

my fingers relentlessly

prodded

the squealing mess of their faces,

whip-cream soft

just as pure,

layered –

vision hazy,

like the movie,

I wept from instant irrational love

sodden

with sadness:

I don’t want to see them go –

has he seen the little angels yet?

My Melody,

his Rose –

both all mine

for a time,

I love them equally

the descant in my heart-blossom –

aren’t they worth it all?

Flowers love to sing,

songs love to flower –

adoration abounds betwixt my girls,

vibrating in the air

irradiating

everything

from luster-less wooden walls

to eyes shuttered in sickness –

you do not have long.

Void awaits,

rest or wandering –

either way

’tis nothing new.

Life is decisions,

I’ve made mine,

not freely,

but I’m no untouched island:

whispering

waves

wore

me

daily –

depart now, daughter.