Rio de Janeiro, Brazil 2012
With shame, one can hide a beautiful moment
like a dark, comic instant photo
rammed deep into a wooden chest.
Inside a day’s empty frame one can mount
the portrait of a condemned, a vanquished,
a crucified. Cover the gaps in the walls
with silly, meaningless drawings.
Like a wind-up doll one can lookout
at the world through glass eyes,
spend years inside a felt box,
body stuffed with straw,
wrapped n layers of dainty lace.
With every salacious squeeze of one’s hand,
for no reason one cry:
Ah, how blessed, how happy I am!
( WidUp Doll by Persian poet Forugh Farrokhzad.)