Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Ali Abdolrezaei

Earthquake

She raised a finger
Excuse me, teacher!


If the holy cow slips
tin roofs falling over
under lots of iron beams would we always die?


the teacher a tremor slipping down his face
pulled the pocket bottoms off his hands
and heavens fell down on the Nth class

crushed benches
lessons fallen from children’s hands
and the walls what dreams they harboured for the inhabitants
except for a hand that appeared in the rubble
with the call of a rising finger!

Excuse me, Sir!
May I get up?

EARTHQUAKE

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Earthquake

She raised a finger
Excuse me, teacher!


If the holy cow slips
tin roofs falling over
under lots of iron beams would we always die?


the teacher a tremor slipping down his face
pulled the pocket bottoms off his hands
and heavens fell down on the Nth class

crushed benches
lessons fallen from children’s hands
and the walls what dreams they harboured for the inhabitants
except for a hand that appeared in the rubble
with the call of a rising finger!

Excuse me, Sir!
May I get up?

Earthquake

She raised a finger
Excuse me, teacher!


If the holy cow slips
tin roofs falling over
under lots of iron beams would we always die?


the teacher a tremor slipping down his face
pulled the pocket bottoms off his hands
and heavens fell down on the Nth class

crushed benches
lessons fallen from children’s hands
and the walls what dreams they harboured for the inhabitants
except for a hand that appeared in the rubble
with the call of a rising finger!

Excuse me, Sir!
May I get up?
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