Ox Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Ox

Like the thing on counter; plastic duplicate, a doctor
Stethoscopes, magnifier, otoscope, microscope
Spectacle on his nose, his head bald, around it little hair
He wears robe, a white and overall.

Curious I read and focus, gaze, and stare at finger.
Skin tough, nail is rough, bones are bent.
Each part has history:

My roots are…
Parents are…
Was forced to…

Beethoven and Mozart and Wagner are all mixed
Symphonies come with jazz, and winds of the Andes.

In my palm I can feel the slash of stick, pomegranate
Leather belt…

They take me to my past and childhood; what a hell
The farmers working hard, Kannas has, bent shovel
For plough men stand in a row side by side
Like bulls, Ox.

I stop and reverse
Then compare on return; I can say:
“Now is hell, no one helps; no kindness.”