UNDERNEATH

A POEM BY MARYAM ALA AMJADI

The butterflies of my headscarf

are pilgrim worms that have always crawled up

the laddered gloom of my vocal cords.

 

And by the strident testimony of my heels

the life I walk is half dead on the blindness of scales

while the immature conquerors of our alien triangles

feed on the generous familiarity of our circles.

 

Tell me,

How many shrouds of laughter and wrath should we stitch

so the trampled body of this silence is never vertical

again?

 

The flowers of our drowsy dresses no longer wish to await

a mating wind that scatters motherless dreams

on the dizzy denial of an earth

that can offer equal warmth only to horizontal feet

and avenge the uneven passion of the pair that

treads on her.

 

Skirts unite the stupor of legs for

trousers to divide and rule.

 

Artwork © Maryam Izadifard

Malise RosbechComment