Nassy Fesharaki Poems

I watch this and get sick
Sick of past that is yours and is mine
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Intimate conversation

I’m sitting with a tongue
It is lamb’s, it’s not mine
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Let’s sit down face to face
Be honest

I pay you and feed you
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I went out with lantern
Then came back and returned
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Summer evening in the balcony

Her dog, brown and white
Rests in terrace on its hind
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Birth-Re-Birth

“Why, oh why? ”
Fetus talked
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Firefly

When hope dies in bad times
Words stuck in the mud
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We must talk

You and I; you and I
We must talk, yes we must
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Follow me

Don’t tell me “Follow me.”
I was burned; now expert.
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