The Alleys of Tehran

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The poem is re-telling of a dream, taking place in the alleys of Tehran.

Submitted: October 29, 2013

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Submitted: October 29, 2013



The Alleys of Tehran


You stopped on the steps,

Those coals on fire,

Your eyes –

Sank in my lips:

"I know how to kiss you now",

You whispered.

I descended

To the world of unwritten springs

Noseless photographs

Buried quietly

In your hands.

I picked you up

And ascended the stairs

Passing the seasons,

The clocks,

The sun-burnt kids of Africa,

The bars of prison,

The minutes spent

On Harry Potter and Twilight

The flat bills and bright coins,

The pain of my first word

The lingering smell of sorrow

Sunflower seeds and boiled beets

In the alleys of Tehran.

I got lost

On the last step

With you in my arms

The bride of silence.

I cannot see me,

Can you?

What time was it,

When I dreamt you last night?

Was it after it?

Or before it?

Was it when I was alive?

Or when my skull was deposing


In that basil-scented pot?

I cannot recall

The color of your dress

But those coals on fire

Kissing my lips

Still taste like

The moment of birth

When I was slimy and blind

Full of tears

And anticipation.

The sun is setting

We, still standing

On the 5-o’clock-lit stairs

I have changed

But you can see how

And tell me.

I pick you up

And ascend

To the alleys of Tehran.

© Copyright 2020 roamingbard. All rights reserved.

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