I am excited to resume the publication of new poems. Today, we have three poems by Reza Ghahremanzadeh. Uut Poetry publishes unsolicited poetry, translations of poetry, and surrealist art collages. See Submit for details.
Icarus
Suicide by sun–– That was the goal all along. Oh, Daedalus, the signs were there: His lack of interest in post-escape plans; His insistence on wax over gum; His heavy sighs at night. You both woke early that day, didn't you? The July sky not yet in full force, placated by the jewel-like clouds of dawn. You both stood over the wings and said a prayer. Your bodies began to birth adrenaline. You both were excited... but for different reasons. Lift-off. Ascension to the azure. Solis maximus. The frantic flapping of fake features. Intrusion into the bird realm. Heat bringing forth the body's brine. (Soon to be alloyed with the sea's.) You took your eyes off him for just a moment. Allowed yourself to revel in the playground of the gods. And that's when he made his move. Shimmering, sinewy flesh soaring upwards. Like an eagle swooping for prey...but in reverse. We know the rest. You see, Daedalus, your son knew what you also know to be true: That even if you escape a physical labyrinth, you're still not truly free. Because life is a labyrinth. The ultimate one. And only death can grant you emancipation.
The Midnight Garden
A dome of weed-smothered trellis. Rows of little dead flowers; and some that are still alive...but are playing dead. The soil is grey and dusty, like the cremated ashes of giants. Giants that long ago lost an external – or internal – war. The moon peeks in occasionally. But her light is not comforting; it's more like a police officer's flashlight. And at the bottom of the garden... a damp, mouldy well, bloated with wish-imbued pennies that it didn't ask for, and can't do anything with.
Calm Down
Writhing serpent, shed your insidious schemes like you shed your skin. You can vacation in my sun-drenched Eden. Summertime, and thelivin'dyin' is easy. Here, taste my mojito with your forked tongue. All this adrenaline. All this Armageddon. So cringingly dramatic. So unnecessary. Everyone, just take a breath. Everyone, as Ms Rivers would say, calm down.
Reza Ghahremanzadeh is a Queen's University Belfast graduate and poet living in Northern Ireland. His poetry has been published in a variety of poetry magazines and journals, including: Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, The California Quarterly, Confluence, Contemporary Literary Review India, Dream Catcher, The French Literary Review, The Seventh Quarry, The Underground Literary Journal, The Yellow Nib and Nomad's Choir Poetry Journal. He has also self-published a volume of poetry entitled Neon Residue.