“A beautiful carpet brings a smile to your face each morning”

(Persian saying)


The skeins of yarn

deftly wound around the warp

in Turkish or Persian knots

have survived the tread

of children’s feet

the hurried pace of the dog

the clawing of the cat.


Their hastily sewn repairs

resemble the scars you bear

from falls and surgeries.

Their pile has worn thin in spots

like the balding pate

you hide beneath your hat.

On the merghoums and soumaks

the ends are left dangling

like all the unfinished business

in your life.


You and the carpets

have acquired a certain patina

that comes only from experience,

the saffron and pomegranate dyes

mellowing with age,

your hair taking on

a silver luster

your skin a jaundiced tint.


You’d like to think you’ve both

aged gracefully.

The almond blossoms and jasmine

on the baktiari

still fill you with love and longing,

The tortoises on the kashgai

continue to hold out

the promise of long life.


(Originally published in The Fable Online)




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