I Hang Myself

Saghi Ghahraman

I splayed my legs they crawled out of me
They were beautiful
Maybe even the sound of love-making when their lips parted in a smile
When I rubbed my fingers on their lips or on their dimpled cheeks.
Maybe they pulled the breeze over my breast
Maybe because they were the sound of love-making and smelled of jasmine
–even when they spurted past me–I craved neither play nor love-making.

I still dream of their eyes and their warm, small hands
That pulled themselves into mine from my bloody insides.
My heart was at their pillow
But it was windy And piece by piece the wind carried away.
They pick the bonds
They loosen the rope
They remove their hands from my neck
Now I myself hang myself
I swell my corpse and reek of the dead.

None of these mask-like laughing faces
Ever say, “tree”
Or that which hangs from the tree
Has a horrifying presence.
Now I myself bury myself
The sky didn’t rain and the earth didn’t grow
And the wind didn’t carry a vague hint
And no one rose from anywhere to say, “what does love mean?”

The smile vanishes
I lie down on my wounds
I have a frightened look
My name keeps dividing.
I splayed my legs
They crawled out of me
They smelled of love
With their little hands that have
Their sharp nails
Fastened on to my bloody walls within.

Read the original Persian poem here.