Sadegh Hedayat Slumbers
The nebula unfurls—
katydids emerge, brandishing starling wings
to brush away night’s star-dark rust.
Am I a cloud now?
Panphobia roars, encroaching with the onslaught of tedium & garboil
as day unravels. I lull myself to sleep, insisting I’m no mere wart
on Monday’s nose.
Let me dream in peace.
Sagebrush rattles on basalt cliffs. Cicadas drill the air.
Wind witches stab ankles, mistaking thistles for mice, foaming drunk
on compost, on coils of pear. The Shah dons sunglasses
to repel the crickets, the grubs, the swift silent feet of relentless dust.
Let him rot.
Morphing into a Simurgh, I fly Persia to wander Versailles.
Sundown capsizes me into a teacup,
into swells of periwinkle & marigold.
A great jolt—did I have a candle? La sorcière.
The hut rises & strides on ostrich legs away into the grove.
Night presses closer. The sun is a plum swelling upon the edge—
she’s a cobra now, piercing bluebottles with her fangs.
Hand me the apple.
By Amee Nassrene Broumand
Amee Nassrene Broumand is an Iranian-American poet. She has a B.A. in Philosophy & English from Boise State University, where she tutored logic for six semesters, graduated summa cum laude, & was named a Top Ten Scholar. Nominated for a Pushcart by Sundog Lit, she also has poems in Word Riot, A-Minor Magazine, Right Hand Pointing, Windfall, & elsewhere. She currently lives in Portland, Oregon & blogs for Burning House Press (UK).