by Suhrab Sirat, translated by Crystal Peng
I am soul
gaze, ghost, & slumber
my nights are sullen, wounded
when I kiss myself in dim mirror
my lips are gushed & swollen, wounded
I am years
stitched with poison
simmered in unseasoned autumnal winds
my Libra pierced holey holy
Sagittarius taxidermied
Scorpio frozen, liberty stolen
wounded
Moaning bulls have drawn & quartered
my earth pawing at bleeding dirt
& hounding
my heart! dear heart—
dear dired heart!— swamped with muck
shipwrecken wounded
Make me a grave & let me Mourn
let me Mourn in the coffin
Mourn for
my country let me
Mourn for my motherland
Mourn for the skyless me! —Mourn also for my mired &
ageless star, scarstricken wounded
Scrawled phrases
unsnared from homeworks
inks unbonded
page after page
my knowledge is bloodied & ashen
wounded
Amongst
sheeples with slumbered ethos
I’ve withered
mind snuffed
psyche askewed
will deaden & wounded
From cradle to grave
I carry
only cursed wounds—
name & tongue & memory & bruisy god—
all marred & burdened
wounded, wounded, wounded!