She Is God Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

She is god

Though at five, she is god.

Anahid

God of Earth, god of birth
Her writing: “Love you bab.”
Had meant to talk to “dad.”

Now she is with mother
Possibly in thirties
Her love is in my room.

Stories are so sad need iron as a hand
And the rocks in brain
Not to shed warm drops; sit and write.

They married and slept; sexy love
Then later, happily searched for name.

Immigrants, collusion of cultures
Now she feels being boss
She demands, and she shouts
Dad has worked like mule
Dead tired he is fallen
Not in bed, on the floor.

And poor child…damn this life.