From Dick-tates and Man-dates
I have come
For thirty plus years
They have beat their drum
I come weeping
From what They sowed
I now enter from the back
For I am also Jim Crowed
I come from behind curtains
Tents and walls of thread
Of littered streets named for the dead
Of self-appointed prophets
With coloured cloths covering their heads
I come
From the shrivelled vineyards of Shiraz
I come
From the deserted Towers of Silence of Yazd
I come
For every woman
Who did not come before me
I come
For every woman whoever bore me
I come
From every sturgeon
In every sea
For We and They
And You for Me
I come.
