Persian Dinners in America
A frayed rug,
the color of pomegranate
stained with chai
A bowl of pistachios, a centerpiece
untouched
uneaten
Sweet, thick dates,
overflowing from a round, plastic container
an invitation
Bellies full of stew,
anchoring us to our kitchen chairs
and our company
The ever-present scent of saffron,
fogging our conversation
a symbol of our fortune
Windows flanked by Hafez poetry books,
asking the night air to come on in
and cool our skin
(reminding me that the drama of this discussion will not last, but its lesson will)
The sounds of my father
playing chahar mezrab
beckoning me into some far away corner of the house
[© 2019 Sarah E. // published in The Menstrual May 2019]