I Called Her Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

I called her

"Isabella, Isabella…"
I called her…

Smeared my voice on the pages
Dried and dusty and, in grey…

I did it in her way, explained
In many stages and layers,
Every word a secret, illusion.

Heard a hymn, sigh, whisper:
"Find raw rye, eat, digest."

"I cannot, " complained: "It has husk! "
Weak I was and could not feel her time,
She was tied and never authorised
By the church and the men high above.

Naming book: "Pass of Old Spookses"
Sounded wild and childish, stupid!

But she had Romeo-Juliet
On surface, to cover…

Critiqued as a poor, of riches
And social behaviours, all unfair.

She brought boy and girl
Searching love, each other,
Then entered the devil
To add heat, attraction…

This was her time's trend
We are same, different
Thanks to our time and day
With Stars and the box,
Screen and actors…

We are cool with torn knees
And cellphone's speaking,
Messaging and texting…