"Afar"
Far away
we are
apart;
Behind the miniature snow covered hills
and stand still white rivers
curving into frozen foggy lakes.
(How I liked watching the earth
through the window of the plane
on my first trip alone at six;
I was cheerfully apart
from everything and everyone below)
I see the fine particles of pleasure
dancing in the air
in an euphoric dream.
Like a bunch of lingering drunkards
they keep getting swept away
from a beam of light to the other,
by the poisoning breath of every playful breeze;
swinging in between
appearing/disappearing,
hanging in between being/not being.
Then swirling down in ecstasy,
they slowly let go
of their weightless ghostly bodies.
Falling like snowflakes,
they smoothly settle down
in the last act of their ballet;
the final piece of peace.
I give a few strains
of my long black hairs
to the chilling winds from the whirling heaven above;
dark serpents slide silently on the snow.
I push the sheet aside
and surrender my burning body
to the cool consciousness of the fan.
A chilling breeze sweeps over my body
dives over my breasts
swirls in my armpits
and disappears in my hair.
I feel a soft electrical wave
moving through me
disentangling the veins,
loosening up the muscle fibers
shutting down the very
workaholic anxious cells
of a modern woman's limbs.
This is peace.
I listen carefully
to the soulful chant of the whirling fan
and I hear your heavy breathing.
(A baby has fallen asleep
and his wet lips
letting go of the nipple
on the empty bottle of milk
have fallen apart)
You are long long gone
and it doesn't hurt,
and I'm not missing neither you nor no one else,
and it's all cool,
and I'm joyfully all by myself,
afar.
This is peace,
or at least a ceasefire
in the ongoing historic battle between us;
the infamous troublemaking opposites.
And it's bestowed upon us
by two exhausted over-satisfied
over-heated bodies
on a hot summer day in June
with no more intention
to be in touch.
Azin Izadifar
March 2013
San Jose, CA
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