THE BACK ALLEY

by Shirin Jabalameli

AI-generated graphic by NightCafé for The New Verse News.

The Moon

picks up a broom

and sweeps the sky clean of war’s shadows.

My dream carries me

through a back alley,

wearing a coat of dust

and a backpack of unfinished paintings.

The rusty cart on the corner

rattles with the echo of nameless days,

and the wind has tucked

passersby’s whispers

into the pockets of rain.

I, with a hand

that may not even be mine,

stir the silhouettes of missiles

into my coffee.

At the bottom of the cup,

a world exhausted by politics

fills and empties

the bowl of “what now?”

And when nothing ever ends,

only

the shape of staying changes.

---

Shirin's Poem in its Original Persian:

کوچه پشتی

ماه،

جارو را برمی‌دارد

و آسمان را از سایه‌های جنگ می‌روبد.

خوابم، مرا از کوچه‌ی پشتی عبور می‌دهد

با لباسی از غبار

و کوله‌ای از نقاشی‌های نیمه‌کاره.

گاریِ زنگ‌زده‌ی سرِ کوچه

صدای رفت‌و‌آمدِ روزهای بی‌نام را حمل می‌کند،

و باد، بوی پچ‌پچِ عابران را

در جیبِ باران پنهان کرده است.

من، با دستی

که شاید از آنِ من نباشد،

تصویرِ موشک‌ها را در قهوه‌ام هم می‌زنم.

تهِ فنجان،

جهانِ ذله از سیاست

کاسه‌ی "چه کنم" را

پُر و خالی می‌کند.

و آنگاه که

هیچ چیز تمام نمی‌شود،

فقط

شکلِ ماندن‌ها عوض می‌شود.

شیرین جبل عاملی

۲۱ مهر ۱۴۰۴

Shirin Jabalameli is an Iranian poet, painter, photographer, and writer. She has authored Crows Rarely Laugh, Apranik, and 101 Moments. Her latest illustrated poetry collection, 25 Fell from the Frame, was recently published. Her poems have appeared in international journals including Braided Way Magazine (USA), The Lake (UK), The New Verse News (USA), and Poetry Super Highway (USA), where she was selected as Poet of the Week.

LESSONS OVER 80 YEARS

by Royal Rhodes

Physicians for Social Reponsibility

     "...then uncontrollably I began to weep..."
           —Derek Walcott, Another Life


The original child bomb
at an early hour
in the Far East
burst in the August air.

It made the atmosphere
truly luminous
like god-particles
in transfiguration of light.

Pedestrians on a bridge
were silhouettes
racing to paradise
as Buddha's smile froze.

And now after decades
the terror birthed
there, a monster
birth, is wombed again.

Treaties are twisted into
origami devil dragons
and peace bells again
are blessed but silenced

new technology multiplies
death for millions while
protesters are sent to jail,
making death much safer.

We have disremembered
the faces moistened
with molten jellies
from upturned, burst eyes.

Royal Rhodes is a poet whose poems have appeared in numerous literary journals, including several times in The New Verse News.

CLOUD COVER

by Mary K O’Melveny

At first, there was just a single cloud.

It wasn’t even very large. One might 

have missed it altogether. Like a cataract.

But it grew bigger, began to darken.

Before long, it had multiplied into

several cloud patches. Each shifted

to a different corner of the sky,

staked out a position. Refused to

move. Dared other clouds to approach 

at their peril. The once-azure sky

vanished. Instead, shadows loomed

overhead like prehistoric birds of prey. 

At first, we did not worry. We knew

shadows needed some light to survive. 

But the shade expanded. Umbras were

everywhere. People queried What can we do?

Thoughts were exchanged. Silhouettes

were measured. Statistics recorded. Talks

faltered, flailed, failed. Prayers met silence.

Candles were lit. Flashlight sales grew.

Batteries grew scarce. Campfires flickered

throughout day and night. Their smoke made

it harder to breathe or see. Night vision goggles

were issued to all eligible households.

 

Soon, the sky was so thickened that memories

were numbed.  Books picturing seacoasts,

flowers, forests sold out. Libraries had

waiting lists for stories of people whose lives

were bathed in sunshine. We struggled to

recall days at ocean’s edge, feet splayed

in wheat-colored sand, a beloved’s hand

dappled with light. Sunburned shoulders

from garden parties and protest marches

soon paled to ghostly reveries. Last to fade

was a vision of a playground filled with

children, sneakers aglow with sparkling lights.

Mary K O'Melveny is a recently retired labor rights attorney who lives in Washington DC and Woodstock NY.  Her work has appeared in various print and on-line journals. Her most recent poetry collection is Dispatches From the Memory Care Museum, just out from Kelsay Books. Her first poetry chapbook A Woman of a Certain Age is available from Finishing Line Press. Mary’s poetry collection Merging Star Hypotheses was published by Finishing Line Press in January, 2020.