P.S.
I am more than
a revolution
a nuclear war threat
a government who silences dissent
I am diaspora birthed from revolution
finding my way back home through poetry.
I am more than
kabob at your favorite Eye-ranian restaurant
exotic chickpea desserts
Rumi poetry wrongly translated
false depictions on reality TV
I am the memory of my grandparents baking barbari with me,
my mother’s stews trapping herbs between my teeth,
my father’s quoting of Hafez and Khayyam for every life event.
In case you missed the memo:
I am tired of my body being mapped in headlines.
I am done with existing for your consumption.
slanting time
the sun forces its way
into my eyes like memories,
like the sound of his lies,
like the sound of him leaving
like the sound of nothing after.
i just want to sit,
press back against
rough concrete
and exist here
until i forget how i wrapped
my pillow with his shirt,
pretended the scent of
his detergent didn’t now linger
in someone else’s bed
until i forget that
love is like sand; days after
you’ve left the beach, you find
it in your bags, your hair, your shoes.
but the sun doesn’t care
about my needs;
she sits still for no one,
instead, sweeps arms
across the sky,
like a marionette of time—a
reminder that
the minutes pass
whether i’m ready or not.
even though it’s useless,
i steady myself
as the world spins
forward.
Tina Ehsanipour is an Iranian-born, California-raised writer, high school Creative Writing teacher, and school librarian. Her work has appeared in Nonwhite and Woman (Woodhall Press, Sept 2022), streetcake magazine, The Rumpus, Nowruz Journal, South Writ Large Magazine, In Short–The Podcast, on stage with Golden Thread Productions, and elsewhere.