I encounter you
When I am half asleep
And you are just
Beginning to be
Half awake
Across this earth of nation-less hope
Sleepy and hungry,
Mirages made out of olives
Futures in the shape of pomegranite trees
Portraits of head scarf covered grandmothers
With hands rough from years of chopping sabzi
Pearls from the Caspian Sea
A trail of saffron, sorrow, and pride
In case we forget the way home
Farsi class lifeboats
In oceans of /tha/ not /va/ sounds
We watch you from our CNN’s and ABC’s
Hundreds and thousands of sweaty, brave Heart-pounding protesting you
In our living rooms
Flattened on our flat screen TV’s
Laptop computers and cell phone technologies
Wrapped in green bandages
Stained by your own red blood from the street
Was it you that they shot?
So far away – this alphabet of
Hamburger helper and Idaho potatoes
Becomes confusing
Your pulse is foreign to me
Not that I want it to be,
But when was the last time,
I sat in a park with you
On the edge of a fountain
In central Tehran
With faloodeh or gojeh torsh
We make kabob in California too
I can’t see you in the smoke anymore
Why are there internet directories
Of executed Iranians
Keeping count
Between barrels of oil
And dead bodies from the late 1980’s
I want to scream but its midnight here
And my roommate is asleep
I thought – it was you,
From the overcoat you wore
On the bus ride to Shiraz
The Ash in a giant silver pot
Ancient paintings etched on the ceilings
I am still a million miles away
On the Manhattan bound train
Searching for organic face wash
And a tax refund
I heard you are in Abadan,
Like sand slipping through my hand.
