Sunday, December 12, 2010


“Everybody knows that you and I, from that trembling branch picked the apple.”
Forough Farrokhzad, Conquest of the Garden (translation: Maryam Dilmaghani)

We were both so raw back then.
I still have our photos
And they look
Almost primeval.
You were sharply cut
And I was chiseled.
You were like a goddess
From a fifties movie.
I was more like the hero
Of a forties western –
Grim greys and watery whites -
Ashen against your deep shades
And your eyes’ glossy lights.
But we found something
There in each other;
And, with loving hands,
We sculpted two into one,
One day – one wonderful day -
In the ancient Near East
(As diplomats used to say).

Once you were so close
That I could smell your perfume.
Every now and then
A wisp of your hair
Tickled my cheek.
You seemed so gentle
And you looked at ease
Even though
You were so close to me.
I longed to kiss you
And pull you closer;
But I could not do it.
And yet you looked at me –
Your flashing eyes
Said you wanted me to react.
But I could not do it.

The next time we were so close,
I was just grateful
For a second chance.
So we kissed
And I held you so tight
You should have swooned
But we stayed upright.

And so it began – you and me.
Your body squeezed so hard against me
That we regretted only our clothes.

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