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i awoke from a fever dream
with my mother tongue
running rampant in my skull.

there are sounds i can make
that you cannot even imagine,
i’ve still somehow retained
the power of persian phonology,

complete with guttural stops
in the throat like a set of bareknuckle jabs
Gher- is a form of hip swaying
while dancing, it can include veshkan-
a form of finger snapping like a fire cracker
 gherdadan- this act of dance can include the eyes
and a bobbing of the neck-
it’s a full bodied seduction.

but it can also be light and done in jest.
famlies gather in circles, each member
dances in the middle, lost in their own
reverie and ability to rouse the viewers.

as a boy i found these scenes difficult
and embarrassing in company,
the roots of homophobia setting roots.
me paranoid to be myself,
except when i was alone and channeling
robert smith, admiring almond eye and olive skin.

these identities are infinite nesting dolls
we carry with us and never unpack.