Sunday Becomes Lost Here

/, Blesok no. 84/Sunday Becomes Lost Here

Sunday Becomes Lost Here

I Had No Home
The Boat That Brought Me
Sunday Becomes Lost Here
The Forth

Wind reveals the environs of running more lucidly
Light has secret balconies

Sunday becomes lost here
From the dress that has no choice to fly
From among all those levels and lines and icons
Only the thin eyebrows
Wrote a short example
Room’s vigilance walks at nights

Behind the rustling of the papers
I’m stupefied like a woman
Who perpetually takes the little girl from water
And she slips back in again
You’ll believe it as soon as you blink

AuthorAzita Ghahreman
2018-08-21T17:22:49+00:00 July 1st, 2012|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 84|0 Comments