Intimate Conversation Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Intimate conversation

I’m sitting with a tongue
It is lamb’s, it’s not mine
I stare, too close and start
“How’re you? ” I question.
No reply, no baa…baa…
Cooked brown in a bowl
As fish does deeply sunk
In the juice richly spiced
Soft, easy are chick-peas
Well-cooked is the garlic
Tongue is mute; so I talk
Request “What you feel? ”
A no comment, no reply
Forces thought deeper in

When we die that we will
Like that tongue, we’ll be
What comes next?

I feel sick.