Angel of Shiraz





7:30pm, Saturday, 23 of October, 1982.
Four armed guards pushed their way into her house.


Graceful emerald with crystal pearls
wrapping the warm embrace of children.

Chasing hammer, cup bur-singing
seventeen sonnets of love,
so young it pains the curb.

Three tic tacs felt like years
looking around drawers.
Closets gripped the guards’ hands
as joyous temperatures rose to their ruby peek.

“Loop lady, don’t say the emerald
is only seventeen.
Children follow what she speaks
like roses marching straight to Zion.”

I would die for You.

“Furkhundih, azizum joon mama.
Don’t worry. They are my brothers too.”

There were no good-byes
in that blindfolded prison of Sepah.
Leaf Mothers rushed
from their heavenly chambers
in anguish to safeguard
the emerald of Shiraz.

…insults, interrogations,
bastinado…

The angel begged the noose
to let her be the last.
She said; I chant the winds of change,
where one is all in nine.
I will die for You.

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