Poetry

Shapour is a butterfly

wherever he is over my body and

feels like a lukewarm rain falling, and

as it falls feels warmer on my skin and

bright so bright  ‘cause he’s opened the window and

a spear of light from up there – where a ceiling could be, and is not- rushes in and something glitters       a mouthful of bitterness and

I open my eyes and

look and

I see blue eyes and

I open my eyes and

I see blue eyes

I open my eyes and I look, I see blue eyes and

as I look at those blue eyes

a lukewarm rain falls on my toes and

even my mind has a belly button

he thrusts his hand up to the wrist, red red red

red and cautious he scratches his wrist out,

I fold over and cry ‘cause I like it and

again my voice is cooler than my body

and these blisters open up

Shapouri 9

Saghi Ghahraman