Fangs Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Fangs



Fangs

In deserts of Iran are towers
Built for and, devoted to pigeons.
That helps life to go on.
Snake crawls for the egg
Hawk flies for flesh
Bird’s drop collected
For trees in desert
(Mostly dates, and the palm.)
Pigeons’ chick, squab
Fights with shell to get out
A day-night
Their bodies’ damp, ugly
(Surely not attractive)
Closed eyes large, awkward
Have thin necks, floppy
Require much of care
Here come the parents.

To readers, audience
Parents are the writers, directors
Like pigeons they gather seed to eat
Convert it to something like the milk
Creative masterpiece.

Unaware remains chick
Blind and featherless with no wing
Yellow shade of goosebumps on its back,
Skin pale as if dead.

After day, and a night, for hatching to get out
Rest and warmth are needed for ugly little guys
Unlike them, now free, readers fall in a hub.

Babies’ eyes remain closed; relative
Quiet audience are fed, with pigeon milk
Get nourished with art’s God,
Watery regurgitated food,
Delivered by writers, directors
Simply like pigeon, poured into squabs
Readers and observers remain as...
The blind?

Friday, October 2, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: educational
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