Beginnings are lacquer red
fired hard in the kiln
of hot hope;
Middles, copper yellow
in sunshine,
sometimes oxidize green
with tears; but
Endings are always indigo
before we step
on the other shore.
Published in WHEN I AM AN OLD WOMAN I SHALL WEAR PURPLE, ed. Sandra Martz
Papier-Mache Press, 1987, p. 181
[1.5 million copies sold by 1998]
[for my dear Baha'i sisters and brothers in Iran]
I taste your blood in my mouth
and the fragrance of your last breaths
in my nostrils
My limbs ache with your torture
Your eyes gaze through mine
giving me new sight
My heart is cracking, bursting
Your mouths become my voice
and we cry
OUT
Hear us, O world
There is no silence in the grave.
LEGERDEMAIN
Computer poetry
instant replay
Now you see it
now you don't
Sleight of hand
slight of mind
Magic words
hi-tech thoughts
Memory bank
empty sounds
* * PRINT - OUT * *
NAIROBI
1969
Hot-house city of the night
your bougainvillea hurts me
like throbbing veins of blood
too full, too red
Your vines hide my tigers
whose black tongues pant
white eyes dream
and wait
wait to spring.
It happened one night
moon-struck
they got loose like a terror
in me
Quickly I caught them
hid them again
under the flowers of my eyes
where they wait
and wait.
My poems may not be used without permission.
You may contact my e-mail address (below) for permission.
I will change my poem selections from time-to-time. Come back and visit again.
© 2000 banani@ucla.edu(sheila)
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