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Poetry

I am from...

 

 

Ranna Khorram
November 20, 2005
iranian.com

I am from un-made beds and clothes everywhere except for my closet.

From jewelry and hairpins tangled in the carpet

Along with clothes-hangers and markers scattered all over the floor.

I am from colorful roses dancing around the green grass;

Beautiful pink buds that turn into juicy pomegranates,

From dead leaves ready to be jumped into.

I am from the old mayor of Foster City

And elderly saying “hi”

The new park with a basketball court that can make you a hoop star:

From Steven driving his car like a thunderbolt past my house.

I am from grandma Taybeh, who makes our Friday dinners:

From all my moms sisters: Mahnaz, Shiva and Mirta, who are my fashion consultants

And from mommy and daddy who I love dearly.

I am from “I told you not to” and “you’re grounded”;

from “degeh nakon” to “barekalla” - things my parents say all the time.

I am for chelo kabob with rice and saffron,

Salmon and “coreshteh carafs”- the delicious foods that make my mouth water

I am for the journal that I have had since I was in second grade

Which is tucked in my room,

Under the warm bed sheets and blankets

In a little box with a lock.

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