Poem
Ali Alizadeh
This Thing
This Thing
This Thing
How to begin to define itthis momentous thing
between us? A monosyllable
rhyming with “dove”
and “above”, so dull
and dubiously religious
compared to the spirit
of our connection. Not that
talk of the numinous
wouldn’t apply. Your penchant
for the Tarot, mine
for the Sufis, altogether
I suspect more transcendental
than the babble
of necessity and hope
desired by our former selves. Now
I can’t say if “love” ever
belonged to my former lexicon
of merely being
with someone. A confession?
That wouldn’t become
my professed agnosticism; but
fate always the star
of your astrological ciphers
and my horoscope
no doubt a serendipity
in the house of your heart. Mine,
(forgive the war metaphors)
a fortress reigned by
the tyrant of solipsism until
your ram battered the gates
and your vanguard scaled
the ramparts. Now the untied
captives laze on the fields
of your victory. The tyrant
a cross between theologian
and troubadour, no longer a threat
to my peasants. But what
have you gained
from this conquest? Do I
make you happy? What do you call
this earth-shaking thing
between us? I suspect
your images altogether sharper
than my medievalist detours, say
animals—am I
salamander to your unicorn
or you a yellow crane
perched on my tortoise? Or
fairytale: you see
yourself as a compassionate
Little Red Riding Hood
to my repentant wolf? Not
very likely. I’ve never really
queried eating you; but
you must’ve glanced
the dangers of sharing life
with a confused and brooding
loner. A person of your insight
doesn’t mess around
in Blue Beard’s chamber.
And I’m frankly just
a diffused dragon. So do we
call this thing
domestication? What about
the euphoria of escaping
our house together
and boarding planes? Am I
your accomplice
or live cargo? Does it sound
like complaint? It’s in fact
a celebration of the ecstatic
thing between us. I ask you
to comment. You say:
“It’s a magical
ever-changing intertwining
of two lives on levels
mundane and divine.”
© 2006, Ali Alizadeh
From: Eyes in Times of War
Publisher: Salt Publishing, Cambridge, UK
From: Eyes in Times of War
Publisher: Salt Publishing, Cambridge, UK
Poems
Poems of Ali Alizadeh
Close
This Thing
How to begin to define itthis momentous thing
between us? A monosyllable
rhyming with “dove”
and “above”, so dull
and dubiously religious
compared to the spirit
of our connection. Not that
talk of the numinous
wouldn’t apply. Your penchant
for the Tarot, mine
for the Sufis, altogether
I suspect more transcendental
than the babble
of necessity and hope
desired by our former selves. Now
I can’t say if “love” ever
belonged to my former lexicon
of merely being
with someone. A confession?
That wouldn’t become
my professed agnosticism; but
fate always the star
of your astrological ciphers
and my horoscope
no doubt a serendipity
in the house of your heart. Mine,
(forgive the war metaphors)
a fortress reigned by
the tyrant of solipsism until
your ram battered the gates
and your vanguard scaled
the ramparts. Now the untied
captives laze on the fields
of your victory. The tyrant
a cross between theologian
and troubadour, no longer a threat
to my peasants. But what
have you gained
from this conquest? Do I
make you happy? What do you call
this earth-shaking thing
between us? I suspect
your images altogether sharper
than my medievalist detours, say
animals—am I
salamander to your unicorn
or you a yellow crane
perched on my tortoise? Or
fairytale: you see
yourself as a compassionate
Little Red Riding Hood
to my repentant wolf? Not
very likely. I’ve never really
queried eating you; but
you must’ve glanced
the dangers of sharing life
with a confused and brooding
loner. A person of your insight
doesn’t mess around
in Blue Beard’s chamber.
And I’m frankly just
a diffused dragon. So do we
call this thing
domestication? What about
the euphoria of escaping
our house together
and boarding planes? Am I
your accomplice
or live cargo? Does it sound
like complaint? It’s in fact
a celebration of the ecstatic
thing between us. I ask you
to comment. You say:
“It’s a magical
ever-changing intertwining
of two lives on levels
mundane and divine.”
From: Eyes in Times of War
This Thing
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