Night, poems by Nasrin Parvaz

Wednesday, 25 October 2017



Time froze
at the call of the first name.
The names always began
being called at noon
when the air was dank
with hundreds of women
breathing each other’s breath
longing for the darkness
for no one was ever called
for execution at night.




Million Moving Pieces


Whenever I board a train
I remember Yavar
he worked in a factory in Arak
making parts for trains.
He used to point with pride and say:
‘You see that train!
I made it.’

He heard the sound of trains
in his sleep
yet when he went anywhere
he went by coach
as he never earned enough money
to take a train to go somewhere,

He left some of himself
in all these million moving pieces.



Published in Live Encounters, November 2017

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