Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Sarya Abra

Revolution

It so happens 
that if we mother    doors
that swing open and shut
so young cows 
mistakenly make revolution 
And war
not a deft midwife
won't stitch the revolution 

If we weren't cattle
we wouldn't shout 
Moo... We are rolling in cowpats
And our milk is so full fat
it sticks in the throat

At the harvest
should a promise not go sour as milk
should a bullet find no place to rest
and no eye be left behind in the gun barrels 
My son would become an ox
So a girl would sell herself to alimony  
dancing around the bribery
In a trough of straw

I was swapped in the delivery room
Where my mother would not die
at childbirth, if I screamed
even redder than the blood 
that's oozing from my poem
This line won't be brain dead 
until my mother smiles
And I won't forget
the tomb stone
we buried in her head

انقلاب

انقلاب

اتفاق اگر بیفتد
اگر ما/دری ‌شویم
که مدام باز یا بسته 
گوساله‌ها
عوضی انقلاب می‌‌کنند
و جنگ
که مامای حاذقی نیست
بخیه‌ نمی‌زند به انقلاب

گاو اگر نباشیم
جار نمی‌زنیم ...   
مااااا      در پِهِن غلت می‌زنیم
و شیرمان که پرچرب است
از گلویی نمی‌رود پایین

سرِ خرمن اگر 
وعده‌‌ای نشود کشک 
اگر فشنگ‌ سامان نگیرد
و چشم‌ در لوله‌های تفنگ جا نماند
پسرم گاو می‌شود 
تا دختری
تن فروشی کند با عروسیش
رقاصی کند این اختلاس
در آخوری پوشالی

عوضی شدم     در اتاق عمل
که روی سر مادر بود
اگر سرِ زا می‌رفت
آژیر 
می‌کشیدم
حتی قرمزتر از خونی
که ریخته از شعرم
 مرگ مغزی نمی‌شود این سطر
تا مادرم لبخند بزند
و از یاد نرود هرگز
سنگ قبرهایی 
که در سرش خاکستری‌ ماند
Close

Revolution

It so happens 
that if we mother    doors
that swing open and shut
so young cows 
mistakenly make revolution 
And war
not a deft midwife
won't stitch the revolution 

If we weren't cattle
we wouldn't shout 
Moo... We are rolling in cowpats
And our milk is so full fat
it sticks in the throat

At the harvest
should a promise not go sour as milk
should a bullet find no place to rest
and no eye be left behind in the gun barrels 
My son would become an ox
So a girl would sell herself to alimony  
dancing around the bribery
In a trough of straw

I was swapped in the delivery room
Where my mother would not die
at childbirth, if I screamed
even redder than the blood 
that's oozing from my poem
This line won't be brain dead 
until my mother smiles
And I won't forget
the tomb stone
we buried in her head

Revolution

It so happens 
that if we mother    doors
that swing open and shut
so young cows 
mistakenly make revolution 
And war
not a deft midwife
won't stitch the revolution 

If we weren't cattle
we wouldn't shout 
Moo... We are rolling in cowpats
And our milk is so full fat
it sticks in the throat

At the harvest
should a promise not go sour as milk
should a bullet find no place to rest
and no eye be left behind in the gun barrels 
My son would become an ox
So a girl would sell herself to alimony  
dancing around the bribery
In a trough of straw

I was swapped in the delivery room
Where my mother would not die
at childbirth, if I screamed
even redder than the blood 
that's oozing from my poem
This line won't be brain dead 
until my mother smiles
And I won't forget
the tomb stone
we buried in her head
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