Cherry red aches and chocolate smudged fingers for valentines

I sat by my espresso

& poured the pain

On your cream couch,

My tears stung your eyes,

You controlled your sighs,

And let me breath,

My discoveries

Did I stain your heart

With cherry red aches,

Of love lost

And family breaks,

Or smudge chocolate fingers

With the bitter sweetness of life?

Did I tie the strings

Of the tassels too tight

Or cut fingers

That stubbed my heart

With each breath of grey,

To say,

I'll be there my friend

As we listened to the king,

With his soul sing,

The few regrets

Or false imaginings,

And watch the doe

Skip across a flickering screen

Of a mute TV

Let us then stay,

As we may,

Comrades of pain,

With a cherry red stain

Of a heartache

And let us smudge chocolate

On cream couches, our way

My brother,

My friend,

When will this end

And we’ll live the tale

That was in letters sent

From memories of yore

And dreams of good intent

My brother my bother

My friend my end

Post it

And let the memories spend

Its moments of glory

In gardens where the sun shines

Happiness of grandfathers’ stories

Where one day I may

Hold the water in the sky

As I spray

The roses and strawberries

That my uncle had drawn for me

With his violin strings

Hidden

Lest it brings

Tears of what may never be

The peace we never knew

Through history

Let us sleep,

Perhaps one day

If I may,

Invite you for tea

Where the four roads meet

Or at the riverside

Where the fish can’t hide

And palm trees sway

To the breeze of yesterday

As whispers breath

And Baghdad sings

In heavens’ wings

Peace

How to Cut a Pomegranate by Imtiaz Dharker

'Never,' said my father,
'Never cut a pomegranate
through the heart. It will weep blood.
Treat it delicately, with respect.

Just slit the upper skin across four quarters.
This is a magic fruit,
so when you split it open, be prepared
for the jewels of the world to tumble out,
more precious than garnets,
more lustrous than rubies,
lit as if from inside.
Each jewel contains a living seed.
Separate one crystal.
Hold it up to catch the light.
Inside is a whole universe.
No common jewel can give you this.’

Afterwards, I tried to make necklaces
of pomegranate seeds.
The juice spurted out, bright crimson,
and stained my fingers, then my mouth.

I didn't mind. The juice tasted of gardens
I had never seen, voluptuous
with myrtle, lemon, jasmine,
and alive with parrot's wings.

The pomegranate reminded me
that somewhere I had another home.