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Poetry

When my palms were still growing
For my mother

By Sheema Kalbasi
March 31, 2004
iranian.com

When my palms were still growing
to reach the white berries
on the carved tree of memories
with one heart and two initials...

I remembered her eyes
behind the car window
knocking with two fingers
and a great wide-open smile
with a pearl necklace sitting inside her mouth/ calling my name: -
in a quiet voice, so that no one heard her
-not even the wind... that was touching/teasing her face -

She is lost
she is lost forever
and forever I have lost
that woman who knocked on the window with two fingers
and a mouth full of white pearls...

In a parking lot
where I sat and remembered
the woman who knocked
on the window with two fingers
and a mouth full of white pearls/who quietly called my name
- so that the little girl would not wake up
in the back of my dreams - is now covered in white roseleaves.

... And in the parking lot
pinching the white off memories
the white berries turn purple from my grief.

* *

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