I saw my sister after
A separation of 22 years.
She looked like an eagle
Carved from a deer antler
Harsh and dry.
She said: He robbed
Me of everything I had:
My independence,
My nerves and now my knee.
The only thing he hasn’t taken is
My mind.
She’ll fly back
Thirteen thousand miles
To be with him.
A few years after his death,
My father was kissing
His brother’s hairy chest in
My mother’s dream.
She told him :
Don’t kiss his chest.
Kiss mine,
So soft and hairless.
But he wouldn’t.
The next day she told us:
I think your uncle has died.
I had a dream.
If I sat
Embracing knees of sorrow
My father would say:
What’s the matter?
Have all your ships sunk in the sea?
Esther Kamkar