A Night From the World by Yash Seyedbagheri

why is the walk back from the bar or the movie
weighed with feet and darkest nights?
hangovers and friendship evaporated,
wise things I said,
why is it they
turn into stupid at the stroke of midnight?
 
why, oh why, is nascent nightly glow extinguished
by voicemails and bills that fill inboxes
and deadlines, when I take a night
from the world? tell me, why does
the sky stab me with a thousand stars,
that look like my father’s eyes?
 
why can’t I capture the moon
in its veil,
and sleep on silvery cheeks?
or at least the purple curtains of dusk,
the clouds bursting in day’s surrender
to night.
 
why can’t I keep all these things longer than an hour?
for three or four, even,
before I must walk out
into the world, pretending to smile,
an obsequious smile
and hope no one sees it wobble

About the Poet:

Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. Yash’s work is forthcoming or has been published in WestWard Quarterly, Café Lit, and Ariel Chart, among others.