My American Love
        Thirty-Two Poems for Wendy

Eleven.
Lost Cypresses

by
Majid Naficy

"Where did those stately cypresses go?"
Lined up in a single row
Alongside a house with an auburn rooftop.

They were the evergreen signs of my trust,
When I would emerge from the street corner
Returning from my morning walk
Alongside the San Mateo Bay
And humming my new poem.

At the sight of Hafez' cypresses*
I would recognize the house in the moment
And pass through the front yard
With red roses on one side
And purple butterfly bushes on the other.

I would open the door without knocking
Walk by the silent fireplace
And large mirrors on the wall
Fearful of dry willow limbs
Drooping from the terracotta vases.

I would busy myself
With cold slices of watermelon
And a puzzle from a radio show
Until my love would come
With the charming tap of her high heels.
Before going to work
She would invite me
To a bowl of oatmeal
And a cup of coffee.

She looks back into the mirror
Over her shoulders
At her shapely body
And answers my question with a question:
"Oh!
You mean those dry dusty cypresses
A refuge for flies and spiders?"

September 6, 2010

* Hafez was a fourteenth-century Persian poet. In his poetry, he compares his beautiful lovers to stately cypresses.