November Game Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

November game

Some may ask:
"And why you? "
"What can it do to you? "

In throat hides a sob
Neither can turn it off
Nor does it burst to call:
"Very much, very much! "

I know her, wrote to her
No reply,
She only sees surface
Of our world, never depths
Of drug transport, on border
Of Tajik, Asia and Oxus.

She is worse than the man on stage.
And doubtless
One of them will soon get the long leash,
November…

She is dumb,
He is shame…

I am a caring ant
One of knots in carpet
Underneath dirty paws
We will be walked upon
By the dogs, greyhounds
Leashed by them…