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UNDER CONSTURCTION

 

Mom’s Radio

 

I love mom

-and hate her

-not hate, hate

-very sad, pity her

 

She opposed radio

-as the cats hated dogs

-the same for cat and mouse

 

“What is that?”

-I asked her about sound

- (of voices that I heard)

- “Some dogs are in a box…”

-she replied…

 

It was not sufficient; I wondered

- “Dogs speak as we do? How smart!”

-did not dare go further

-both fear and respect

- “She is Mom, knows better!”

 

Was sixteen and friend with Ali

-we went to radio as did dogs

-hungry, naively looking at the butcher

-for a loaf, piece of meet

-we wanted to become employed.

 

What a change!!!???

- (all in me, same person.)

 

The past right was now wrong

-and my right was mom’s wrong

-until when we had that breakfast

- (miracle by our mom!)

 

My dad, Mom and myself were born

-in a village and away from town

-with our own way of life, and culture

-different, though the same

-as the rest of Iran, but local

 

Mother was proudly to explain:

-I made it based on a recipe

- (from the radio!!!)

 

“Take pumpkin and peel it,

-remove seeds and cut it

-to cubes, cubicles

-small like cube sugar.

-take water, add little lime powder

- (not too much) and stir

-drop the pumpkins in

-give it time for a day

-then after boil sugar in water

-not too thick but juicy

-drop cubes, let it boil

 

What she made was super

-in the mouth, on the tongue

-it broke, sweet, soft

-far better than honey…”

 

And mother felt proud…

 

Her past wrong was now right

-and worthy of the love…

 

“What is right?”

“What is wrong?”

 

Keeps ringing in my head…

-when I read and listen

-whenever socialise

-see people

-varied past, locations

-their genders and ages

-shapes, colours

 

Every text, material is mason

-builds questions; over all, general

-and shrunk to the bone:

 

“What is right?”

“What is wrong?”

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