trader

A cook’s tour around your curves

and I knew my hand

is no Polo to leave you …

a look into your eyes

and I knew your iris

          is sure Razi to distill me …

a sip of your elixir

          and I knew the night

                   is my road to your silky hair

…

and if you be my tour guide

                             I might as well

                   trade my streak of iron

                             for your flesh of gold.

                  

- Ali Fatolahi, Jan 30^th 2012, Ottawa