Poems

Kabul

If my heart beats
for Kabul
it's for the foot of Bala Hessar
which holds my dead
in its embrace.
 
Even though not one
of those unfulfilled/disappointed hearts has ever
beaten for me.
 
If my heart weeps
for Kabul
it's for Leyla sighing "Oh dear God"
which always
broke Grandmother's heart.
 
It's for Golnar's eyes scanning the road
from dawn to dusk
from spring to autumn
they stayed on the road so long
that all the roads disintegrated
and the byways
suddenly
shed their skin
into my adolescent nightmares.
 
If my heart trembles
for Kabul
it's for the slowfooted middays of summer
which still make my father's house [family home],
with the heaviness of its mid-afternoon sleep [naps?],
weigh down on my ribcage.
 
For the playful Angel of the Right Shoulder
which keeps forgetting
to drive away the stray bullets.
 
It's for the voice
of the wandering vegetable seller
getting lost in the neighbours' agitated dreams
that my heart trembles.