Sabzevar
I must have been Iranian in a previous life
Living on the outskirts of old Qom or great Tehran
Cutting ripe apricots in half with cháqú knife
Eating Ash-e anār and lamb during a night of fun
Give me a pomegranate half, let my tongue be moist
For I can taste the blood of lions in its juice
And I can feel raghseh chagoo in my blade and loins
As my legs move on their own and my belt is loose
I must have been Persian in a past existence
Must’ve walked the Grand Bazaar in search of spice and love
Of silk, freedom, qormeh sabzi, and resistance
Perhaps I found it, locked up in a cage – a white dove
If I was an Iranian in a life before
It wasn’t as a mere man with his thighs-flesh between
I lived that life as an Iranian woman, more:
I lived that life as an Amazon with eyes of green