Bio:
Soodabeh lives in Queens, NYC. She got her Pharm D and PhD
of Pharmacognosy and has worked as a researcher, assistant and associate
professor in the Kyoto University (Japan), TUMS (Iran) and University of
Saskatchewan (Canada). She writes in English and Farsi. Her English poems have
been published in different anthologies and literary magazines including
Careless Embrace of the Boneshaker (GWFM), Squawk Back, Indiana Voice Journal,
Sick Lit Magazine, Dying Dahlia Review, etc. She has authored and edited both
scientific and poetry collections (https://www.amazon.com/s?field-keywords=soodabeh+saeidnia).
The last conversation
you come closer,
and I feel a hole
in this very cliche
beating in my chest
and I feel a hole
in this very cliche
beating in my chest
and the hole isn't
like a chamber
for pumping of
my blood
like a chamber
for pumping of
my blood
nor in the myocardium
to be detected
to be detected
it's growing bigger
with every pulse
of your touch
without a trace of MI
with every pulse
of your touch
without a trace of MI
should I open it with
a crystal fondle?
you say, "well ..."
you say, "well ..."
should I fill it with
a handful of care?
you say, "no ..."
you say, "no ..."
"but what if i
get drenched
in the stream
and no one is aware of the leak,"
I said.
in the stream
and no one is aware of the leak,"
I said.
"what if I bury
an orchid's seed
next to the hole
and it blooms to recover, to heal,"
you replied.
next to the hole
and it blooms to recover, to heal,"
you replied.
The Day Fishes Didn’t
Swim Against the Current
Fishes drift downstream
and cast themselves
off the perilous edge
into a hexagon mold
within a hammerhead
shark's dream.
They do it each day, never stop;
never dream to swim upstream
as I, sat by the window,
watch them,
count down the moments of their witless lives
on the hanging rug my father gifted.
The Way Tsunami Is
Pronounced
The way you pronounce "Soodabeh",
I feel I am the only autistic child of a woman
who has seven billion normal children.
I try to recall my name and pronounce it
just like you but I fail each time,
for there's no air in the atmosphere to wave my voice.
There is only microwave and gamma radiation
piercing each cell of my brain,
the way there is no sound communication in the space.
The way white killer whales reach out to each other in the
ocean.
The way you pronounce my name,
a drill digs the flatland behind my ears
and goes directly down to the left ventricle.
The way I pronounce “tsu” in tsunami
or the way a tsunami might wash
the words of this poem.
What beautiful poetry. Three grand slams. Doesn't get any better. Bravo to intelligent poetry!
ReplyDeleteThank you very much Danny for coming by to read and comment. I am really glad you enjoyed reading them.
ReplyDeleteI liked the third poem very much! Enjoyed all the read.
ReplyDelete