De I Me Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

De I me

She reads her poem, Dementia
Her husband’s
Wins prize; best poet, Canada’s
It is nice
I see her in the eye of my mind, freedom, solitude
She compiles many words, and feelings, smears lot of pain pain
On Tellez. “Of course yes! ” is my voice that exists but is not spoken
Never heard
It is in discursive.

And my I, I of me, silently de I’s me
And tells me
Of heroes
One is South African; is detained behind walls, immigrant
Many years and is cost million, in dollars, right here with angels
He resents his old name, rejects past,
Is he not, is it shame, dementia?
Like in Qasr, almond eye
Karim was an Afghan:
“I was born in Mashhad.”
His sex in public bath; all aware, man to man interacts.

Here I
Do not want ambiguous.
Reader needs clarity…
I want birds to pick seeds; want them see …
Mindless are sparrows and pigeons are lazy …

How lovely to observe
Approaching, stealing, fight or do anything … still eat…

I avoid the words in crystal, Taj Mahal, Museum’s, Modern Art’s.

De I me…
De I me, forever…

Subtly
Solitarily
Insidiously
Discursively