Ext. Former US Embassy — Tehran — Night — Dream Sequence
By Nima Najafi-Kianfar
There is a building whose guards are doors,
men pressed into wood years ago;
they cannot open or close themselves.
Uniforms splinter what Iran calls their
a surface that cannot tolerate any more
Parcels of ash
rain on cloudless days
Feel floors of red
promenades; faith twitching limbs
finding refuge in
Here is too late.
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They spelled Apacalipse! wrong.
Nima Najafi-Kianfar MFA ’09 was born in Iran and has lived in Germany and the United States. He received his B.A. in English from UCLA and MFA in Creative Writing from Saint Mary’s. He begins a doctoral program in poetry and international human rights and diversity at the University of Nebraska in fall 2009. This poem comes from a book-length poem titled Int. Persia.