Your eyes burn beneath my lids.
The smoke of sadness penetrates the walls, the drapes,
the sun-haunted dust.
All’s crooked and full of longing.
Pomegranate seeds festoon the table, garnets
mooning over their unrequited love, the winter sun. Glaring
datura white, the tabletop gleams through the bite and slash
of perennial knives, the grooves pooling with shadows
and hints of sugar. The sun faints,
stirring a hum—
within this slab of hewn pine,
wingbeats.
Cranes circle each other above the river,
becoming the whole sky.
Amee Nassrene Broumand is an Iranian American writer from the Pacific Northwest. A Best of the Net nominee and a three-time Pushcart Prize nominee, her work has appeared in numerous journals including Glass: A Journal of Poetry (Poets Resist), Rust + Moth, Barren Magazine, Sundog Lit, and Empty Mirror. Find her on Twitter @AmeeBroumand.
photo by Viktor Talashuk and Cecile Hournau (via unsplash)
Crow & Cross Keys 