Every time I fry garlic I remember your kitchen
Its tidy dimensions
Its lively smell,
And the jars of Tameshk jam sitting in a row
Waiting for my hungry fingers
To discover once more their sweet and sour taste
Every time I see a morning glory trying its way around a fence
I remember the surreal shape of your garden
The curve of your body
Bowing to every growing thing
Every time it rains I think of you
On those lonely nights
The touch of kismet on your broad forehead
The force of days on your bent shoulders
I've missed your never fading smile
I've missed the faint sound of your prayer beads
Clicking into my surreal deeds
I've missed you
Passing me a spoon to cave deeper into the Tameshk Jar.
* Happy March 8th; Happy Women's Day!
** The White Experience, Austin, January 2008: I took the photo in a rainy morning: White Jonquil flowers.