Two Poems by Ali Sobati
Dream’s Epitaph(for Yadollah Royaʾi)-It comes from the dampOf a mind,Dripping still, From seasCascaded inDeserts;Where wind etchesAn arcacross theScorched spreadof sand.Yet, it is cloudAnd open:Its shadowwave-atop A-void-ant; A petalIts memory;Its bodyAn infantRose-rolled,In scorchedAsphodel hollows.Words slip AwayFrom him,While lingersOn theSeventy-first grave – A “word all alone” Nesting on the gravestone.********************On Toronto-But how to write of a city you are inBut not part…