poems by Rena J. Mosteirin

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Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Miss Tehran 2009

In Tehran in blood red and skin/ color this morning
and the color of smoke/ watch this woman
as blood comes all over her face/ and she dies
on a computerscreen/street in every city
in the world. Her name means blood
no, that is incorrect/ her name means voice.

Now blood takes her lungs, fills her voice
every computer can see her dying face this morning
you can tell by her eyes and you can tell by the blood
again and again this woman
who is so beautiful/ we pass her on the street/screen in every city
on the screen on my computer on my desk she dies.

In Teheran in blood red and skin/ color she dies
on the news it says her name means voice.
We stand beside her on the street of the desktop city
and she bleeds from her beautiful face. This morning I found a dead woman
on my screen and I don’t know what she said but she said it in blood.

We drink our office coffee, it tastes like blood
on the computers at our desks we watch as she dies
over and over. Maybe this time they will save the woman
but they never do. Even though she is beautiful and her name means voice.
We drink our office coffee and die with her this morning
on computer screens in every city.

Dear dead woman, your city is burning, your city
the world is watching as your lungs fill with blood
you won’t get a funeral so let’s give you a beauty contest this morning
we count you/ we vote for you/ you still die
on this video where you are your country and your name means voice
you are Miss Tehran 2009/ you are the dying woman

you are the beautiful perpetually dying woman
we stand beside you on the street of the desktop city
red blood of voice
red voice of blood.
Look at Miss Tehran 2009 as she dies
on your desk again and again this burning morning.

Her name bleeds voice, this dying woman.
We mourn her this morning in all of the bloody cities.
The revolution flickrs in our electric eyes as Miss Tehran bleeds and dies.

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