A Woman’s Silent Gaze

A Woman’s Silent Gaze

 

A room and a fragment of cloud, tinged like a woman’s sea,
Once more, you peer into the silence the windows decree.
A shadow’s cold presence, always lingering in the frame—
A woman, watching the unripe apples, still the same.

Two damp hands tremble, caught between stillness and flight,
Hovering beside the moment of maybe, of wrong, or right.
The crisscrossed lines in the cup—a skein, tangled and bound,
Two half circles, a line stretching, silent, toward the ground.

Four broken lines trace a square, full but askew—
In the mirror, does the woman emerge, or slip from view?

 

                                         Rasoul Moarek Nejad

A poem from the poetry collection “Around Tir Month and Snow” (Selected Poems 2004-2015), published in 2016 by “Gofteman Andeisheh Moasser” Press.