In Box Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

In Box

Use my car as a box
In grand theatre;
With stage in front
I drive…

Go forward
Side to side

Here, there
Bus-stops.

Use the tools as questions
Ask for time, day and night;
And clock has answer
And a watch gives reply:
"Its Midnight! "

I ignore
Drive on

Few are the people
And less are vehicles

Most of those present
Are the girls and women

I look and can observe
How they are worn, tired.

Runs in mind poem of
"Mehdi-e-Akhavan, or Sales."

There, the wolves are free
Also, cold, hungry
While the dogs by fire
Chew on bone in chatting.

And I look and compare
The women and the girls
With their own ancestors
Their mothers, old sisters.

Those who lived under rule,
Patriarchal, cruel,
Had a bone to chew on
While beaten with leash on.

Ask myself: "Are women of our time
Free and hungry as are wolves? "

Drive on
Drive on
Drive on

Feel fear that they wear
Underneath their skins
Cautiously, in walking.

Remember mouse and lamb
With heartbeats, seeing cats!

Yes, here, Canada
Says and says and says lot
Of women and their rights

But in my theatre
In middle of the night
When dim are all the lights
I see the king's frown:
Informing: "Go…F…off."

"Are women truly
Equal and free?
Or are they fooled in a
Tricky, ugly way
To become the slaves
At work and in purchase
Of useless products
In name of the fashion
And style of makeups? "

I think and question and
Then drive and drive
And drive and drive and drive.