“Right-aligned image”
Hamed Rahmati

We were a few people.

Spring.

From the crack in the wall.

Still found!

Jacob

I heard from behind the poles.

He became a father.

And he said, “Tell me his name.”

Ocean… or sky.

Let it be!

Ibrahim.

I understood from behind the poles.

His mother passed away.

And his black robe.

Pull yourself together!

But Yehya.

With date seeds.

In darkness.

He was making a rosary.

And he would mention the days…

The young woman had gone.

To the blues.

But I was alone.

Not names…

No beautiful child.

No… a young woman.

Years pass.

And snowflakes.

My nature.

It’s cold…!

And still.

In my individual cell.

I am carving.

Remove excess hair.

I am carving.

The disappearance of femininity.

That’s only in my imagination.

The road goes.

And the scent of his/her perfume.

Time.

It is seductive!

Today.

From my cell window.

Someone came to visit.

With a flower… wilted.

In his hands.

Death.

He/she is smiling.

He is looking at me.

And me.

My lips are dry.

I am tying my headscarf.