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What does this mean?

By Siamak Kiarostami
September 22, 2000
The Iranian

It was said once

That what we say

Is easily forgotten.

I don't remember who it was

That told me that but

I remember the first time you stumbled

Across me and said my name,


You said my name like my mother

You made it beautiful-

Whispered it across my chest in the dark

And made it hypnotic


I became slave to my own name

I pretended to not hear when you'd call

Just to hear you say it.

Won't you say it?


Another forgotten wise man once said

We ask ourselves questions we already know

The answers to

My questions are out of order so

I let my lips press arbitrary answers

all over your body that very same night

you changed my name.

Hours of this interrogation had passed

We had certainly moved past any logic-

Begging for understanding

The salt of your skin asked my mouth

What does this mean?


Days later we sat in sunlight,

Two feet apart asking the same

What does this mean?

I mean what's going on?

There was no wise man here

Perhaps he only asked questions

He did not fear to answer


I am afraid to ask for her hand

I am using it to hold myself together.

What's does this mean? I don't know.

I see it though

My clarity comes at the expense of loss

Perhaps that is why

I remain unclear to you

Or vice versa

Let's keep things clouded.

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