SHE’S THE BEST LOCKSMITH IN TOWN

November 20, 2016

“Believe me when I say:
‘Out of all those around,
she’s the best locksmith in town.’
Her stethoscope ears
know when the dials of your heart
click into place.
She’s been cutting keys for years.
You don’t stand a chance
with that flimsy case.
Alas, no matter how
you lock your heart —
bolt, fixture, and
key —
she’s got nimble fingers
that pick locks for
free.
Padlocks and deadbolts
are all in vain.
Why do you even bother
with that chain?
She’s way too smart.
Along with ours, she’ll have
your heart.
And you will see
that the best locksmith in town
is she.”

Kamand Kojouri

HE TRIED TO MEASURE HIS DAY

November 20, 2016
“He tried to measure his day
by tallying the hours on his wrist.
I wiped it off and called him a prisoner.
He placed the hours on a scale
with hours from former days to compare.
I took a hammer and broke it all.
He bent down and picked up the
shards of minutes first
then swept the seconds.
I told him he’d missed a spot;
there were some sparkling specks left.
“What are they?” he asked.
“Those are moments,” I said.
“What are they made of?” he asked.
They are times, I thought, when you win a race
or win a heart.
They are times when you give birth
or lay something, someone to rest.
When you wake up in the morning
with a smile because anything is possible.
When someone compliments the thing
you hate most about yourself.
Times when you are embarrassed.
Times when you are hurtful.
Times when you relish in a hearty meal.
Times when you service others and
are content with a well-spent day.
“What are they made of?” he asked again.
“They are made up of times when we are fully present.”
I licked my finger and picked up one of the specks
with the tip of my finger.
“Do you remember this?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said, “I was whistling in the kitchen
that morning.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because of the knowledge
that I was loved.'”

 

Kamand Kojouri

DO THE LOVERS KNOW?

November 20, 2016

“Do the lovers know
that when they whisper these poems
they are commemorating our love?
Do they ever think of you and me
or only of themselves?
Do they know that I once found
a strand of your hair
and wore it around my neck
like a necklace?
That I kiss your hands
more than I kiss your lips?
Do they realise that our love
and their love
are drops in the universe’s ocean of love
and that without any of these drops,
the ocean would be
less?”

Kamand Kojouri

TELL ME WHERE SWANS GO IN WINTER

November 20, 2016

“Tell me where swans go in winter
I need to know if the mute ones can sing.

Tell me why stars fall from the sky
I need to know if it is luck they bring.

Tell me why feathers land near you
I need to know if you’ve injured your wing.

Now, tell me where you end, my angel
For I no longer know where I begin.”

Kamand Kojouri

FRIDAY

November 20, 2016

“It is raining blood today.
I open my book and write Black Lives Matter
to acknowledge the unanswered injustices.
I write Blue Lives Matter
for how can any human
be separate
from humanity?
I write All Lives Matter
but stare at these words—
Don’t they invalidate the others?
I stand conflicted
as the clouds continue to bleed.
I try to erase the last phrase
but find the blood
has already
drowned my words.”

Kamand Kojouri