Sandy May
Traveller in the arts
Posts: 9
(12/12/02 10:13 am)
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Safe in Shiraz
Last night in the dream, she rambled a sharp stoned
path flanked by crumbled alleys, buildings tumbled
in rubble. Her bare toes were cut bloody. Awakens
this morning startled, the sound of drumming.
Her closed windows rattle.
A foolish nightmare, scolds a sharp nosed sister.
Merely thunder. We are safe in Shiraz.
The toothless cobbler still tinkers with soles, the barber,
the one-eyed baker enjoy each day, the winking salesman
barters for brushes. Tribal rug weavers, vibrant in sequined
clothes, ceaselessly chatter behind the carpet shop.
We are safe in Shiraz.
A family of four snake through the crowded town
on a motor bike near the Hafez bazaar’s magazine stand,
their two dimpled toddlers sandwiched between father
and mother. Levis peak out under her black chador.
Near Narangistan with its cool mirrored mosaic,
great loaves of nan steam in the baker’s cart
as the faithful line up in late afternoon, after the Mosque’s
call to prayers. Shop for tea, pause at the hardware store.
Safe in the land of Saadi and Hafez’s ghazals.
Under a willow tree, the two sisters picnic, share panir,
roasted goat on an old Kashgai carpet, spread on the grass
of a dusty traffic island, dividing the cobbled thoroughfare.
Grim rifled soldiers in great army tanks parade by.
ast night in the dream, under a white silk shroud, folded,
shLast night in the dream, under a white silk shroud, folded,
she rambled a sharp stoned path flanked by crumbled
alleys, buildings tumbled in rubble. Bare toes cut bloody.
Awakens startled to sound of deep drumming. Bare windows rattle.
A foolish nightmare, scolds a sharp nosed sister.
Merely thunder. We are safe in Shiraz.
The toothless cobbler still tinkers with soles, the barber,
the one-eyed baker enjoy each day, the winking salesman
barters for brushes. Tribal rug weavers, vibrant in sequined
clothes, ceaselessly chatter behind the carpet shop.
We are safe in Shiraz.
A family of four snake through the crowded town
on a motor bike near the Hafez bazaar’s magazine stand,
their two dimpled toddlers sandwiched between father
and mother. Levis peak out under her black chador.
Near Narangistan with its cool mirrored mosaic,
great loaves of nan steam in the baker’s cart
as the faithful line up in late afternoon after the Mosque’s
call to prayers. Shop for tea, pause at the hardware store.
Safe in the land of Saadi and Hafez’s ghazals.
Under a willow tree, the two sisters picnic, share panir,
roasted goat on an old Kashgai carpet, spread
on a grassy traffic island, that divides the cobbled thoroughfare.
Rifled soldiers in army tanks parade by.
e rambled a sharp stoned path flanked by crumbled
alleys, buildings tumbled in rubble. Bare toes cut bloody.
Awakens startled to sound of deep drumming. Bare windows rattle.
A foolish nightmare, scolds a sharp nosed sister.
Merely thunder. We are safe in Shiraz.
The toothless cobbler still tinkers with soles, the barber,
the one-eyed baker enjoy each day, the winking salesman
barters for brushes. Tribal rug weavers, vibrant in sequined
clothes, ceaselessly chatter behind the carpet shop.
We are safe in Shiraz.
A family of four snake through the crowded town
on a motor bike near the Hafez bazaar’s magazine stand,
their two dimpled toddlers sandwiched between father
and mother. Levis peak out under her black chador.
Near Narangistan with its cool mirrored mosaic,
great loaves of nan steam in the baker’s cart
as the faithful line up in late afternoon after the Mosque’s
call to prayers. Shop for tea, pause at the hardware store.
Safe in the land of Saadi and Hafez’s ghazals.
Under a willow tree, the two sisters picnic, share panir,
roasted goat on an old Kashgai carpet, spread
on a grassy traffic island, that divides the cobbled thoroughfare.
Rifled soldiers in army tanks parade by.
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