Poetry at Sangam



In The Justice Of The Liver & Guts by Ziba Karbassi

Translated from Persian by Stephen Watts & Ziba Karbassi
this is poetry ground
from the seven cranes of Herakles
gantries are hanging/suspended
roofs toppled off backwards
from seven corners of the homeland
we are the people
shoulder to shoulder  aaah !
with our forearms
ferrying our fists to the sky
with the demolished house beneath our marching feet
there is the smell of fennel & tikhum
any state worker & leased people
of all fabrics & any gender
made from construction plant industries
made by hand in factories
under our clenched jaws
it tastes of liver’s blood
in the justice of justice there to be taken
in the justice of words that from temple to toe are human
in the justice of seven that seven times beats in the chest of
the bullet & the heart fails
in the justice of the sun when in its absence
the town’s little lights
are jezebel whores
in the justice of bread that without water can’t get down the throat
in the justice of a name that in my throat has continuously repented
                                              becoming my mother
in the justice of razors familiar with wrist blood
in the justice of darkness that devoid of breath lovers are wasted
in the justice of salt that sucked out Urmia’s lake in one gulp so/&
           the Urmia of Zartosht salt-retains all turbans
in the justice of liver’s blood & guts
if  if  if   I were to open my mouth
like Golestan forests you’d be on fire
I will bite into your raw liver so hard
that the walls of Evin & Qezel Hesar will become
in the dreams of torturers wild pigs & hogs careen backwards
& revolution revolution will gush from your seven corners
& your seven ancestors & orifices will become a gobbling table
& the largest bone of my poem
will stick in your throat
so pieces of this blood land, body land, poetry land
will red-riding-hood-it out from your eyeballs &
                                               your larynx.
←Ziba Karbassi