Princess of Perjah

My Iranian Bride

Where are you now my Iranian bride?
Your caramel complexion toughened by time
Moonlight smiled on dreams and cast you from the garden
Provided hope and work as harsh as the fruitless desert summers

Where are you now my Iranian bride?
Your almond eyes painted with ochre and olive
The roots of happiness buried deep within our memories
Those long flowing garments a wedding gown crowning history

Where are you now my Iranian bride?
Your softened belly weak with multiple births
A cousin’s hand that stole you from my evening shadow
Gave you children rich as the earth we ploughed in the morning

Where are you now my Iranian bride?

Mother of pearl shimmer in your ancient smile

Knowledge forbidden like the restless nights we sweated

Erasing traces of shared lives as sand washed by ocean currents

Where are you now my Iranian bride?

Locks as dark as the treacle in your sweets

Your perfumed flesh intoxicating incense to my lively senses

Praying secret thoughts of years past together shaping destiny

Where are you now my Iranian bride?

Feet softened with pumice from the dusty trail

Jasmine and lavender oil betraying your heritage to the west

Veiled emotions captured forever in visions wide as an Arabian sky

Where are you now my Iranian bride?

Lips puckered and outlined with hazelnut henna

Gentle fingers that eased my burdens from those heavy days

Reflections of the future in your ancestral culture taught me wisdom

Where are you now my Iranian bride?

Skin tingling with a burning of the afternoon sun

Offering bread to strangers from the oasis of your heart

Returning to the land of your childhood to walk proud among men

* * *

For Samina .. with the eternal love that can only exist when time and nature conspire to separate beauty from life too soon .. may your dreams be ever peaceful.

Sundance Mountain

Shorter Days

High on Sundance Mountain:
above the tree line, into tundra, glacial;
looking out across the Mummy Range
watched by raven eyes
translucent, purple, passive.

Under mushroom capped boulders,
I dreamt of hunting and gathering.

Eagle feathers,
teeth, bones, wampum shell
pearl glint off cue ball smooth pebble
sacred;
ancient scarred land
ocean breeze history
of sundown states, sets flags a’wavin’.

The Painted Desert
reflects a bleached sand message,
on the palm
of the hand, too busy
raising wheat, and children,
to catch the news;
new wars –
monumental errors, hardware software,
gangster mob wars, police brutalities,
heroin heroes die, people on streets,
victimless crimes.

White-boy rednecks throw back Coors lite,
swear by th’almighty,
spit into the wind and cuss,
the Jews, the blacks, the commies, the fags
they’re common, enemies.

The polished political dome, all magnificence,
looks out across the harvest
bangs the gavel on empty silos.

Copper tarnishes green on golden flames,
Ellis island-landing immigrants seeking fame,
investment, investiture, multi-national disease.

Wall Street drops,
red lines trace innocent blood
a thousand miles from ..
long, warm, summer evenings
under weepin’ willow branches
at Dead Horse Creek,
suckin’ on agaves, and sarsaparilla.

Humid thoughts
of thirteen year old memories;
tree house dreams of
Hardy Boys adventures
Dennis the Menace comics
and young girls’ budding breasts,
not stopping to think
of shorter days
ahead.