So this breezy mystery bruise is also earth’s! She reads on; the yellow gulls arc
and link at her breast; winter cracks the whites of her eyes, strange shapes egress!
Too easy to forget, and in no less than human fashion, grief leaks its combination.
But she cries, "not for what I did not understand but that it was meant for me
alone." Here he thinks of the sparrow on heels of lead, the black spill of elevators
and ice. She wipes and weeps to her taste, but how fast, too fast, things rise! The
meadows they made only once, over which chance angles light a clover. "That
thicket horsetail rain which I polished as a child stands up to me now." His eyes
do not bulge and yet, are large. He tests himself, a man who stands in the rain of
bone marrow, in the rain of bone, in the rain. And the rain stands on end like
him; it falls in tatters for her joy; on a horse too inhaled by the distance peppered
with pure mills, in a letter now too far to be sent in haste.
Farnoosh Fathi is from California and currently lives and works in Carmel Valley. Her poems, translations, interviews and collaborations can be found through the web.