Lucky Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Her hair
Nothing; but bag of gold
In air, they dance; swing, float

Her eyes
Ocean, with countless waves
The ship, a wreck; capsized, drowned

Her face
A sun also a peach, has bony cheeks
Her lips, petals of rose in pond

Her size
Great, Venus in legs and hip and waist
On chest orange, firm and fresh

“Can she be mine? ”
On every mind
Young men are dogs in the desert

Words come; stop
Behind her lips
Her mouth a hive, honey to lick

She knows and them
(Interpreters)
She is mute

One takes the notes
Two do the talks
For her here, to do the walks

Into school
And going back
To tomorrows, round the clock

If she knew
The rest of world
In her place, she’d feel lucky.