Khanevadeh by Farnaz Fatemi
Poetry
Khanevadeh
by Farnaz Fatemi
“My aunt says, I learned to do figures on our figs, in Tehran, calculus of my childhood.”
Khanevadeh
by Farnaz Fatemi
Fig.
These figures—
They’d want figs.
You said they were Persian?
It figures they’d ask. Yes. They’re fig eaters.
These figures disappeared behind our tree, and I could see them picking figs.
They’re delicious! I understand. I said: we like to eat most of these figs and haven’t really had trouble doing so.
My uncle gave them some figs, which also figures. He’s neighborly. I tell everyone about my cuttings. My aunt says, I learned to do figures on our figs, in Tehran, calculus of my childhood.
My cousin remembers a photo, taken in Iran of her dead father (one reason we are gathered today,
by Zoom). He’s pleased.
Three green figs dangle from his hand, calling to mind a Baroque portrait.
I think, it figures: I’ve inherited this joy.
My disposition is lifetimes old.
I love figs.
I grieve
him.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Farnaz Fatemi’s book, Sister Tongue, won the 2021 Stan and Tom Wick Poetry Prize (selected by Tracy K. Smith) and is forthcoming from Kent State University Press. Pre-order the book here. Farnaz co-founded The Hive Poetry Collective in Santa Cruz, California. Her poems and prose appear in Catamaran Literary Reader, Crab Orchard Review, Grist Journal, Tahoma Literary Review, Tupelo Quarterly, and several anthologies, including Essential Voices: Poetry of Iran and its Diaspora and Halal If Your Hear Me: The Breakbeat Poets, Vol. 3. She is the recipient of residencies and honors from Djerassi Resident Artists Program, PLAYA, Marble House Project, I-Park Foundation, Willapa Bay AiR, Vermont Studio Center, Center for Women Writers, and San Francisco Litquake. She formerly taught writing at the University of California, Santa Cruz.
AUTHOR PHOTO BY Paul Skenazy • FEATURED IMAGE BY Shelby Graham
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