Ceremony of Sugar
Our mothers rubbing together two sugar cones
showering us in sweetness our
cloth of unity a canopy of lace
above our heads, our hands clasped
like the necklace of my name
sings around my neck in
Farsi, the melody of my childhood that eludes me
like the tahdig I never tried to make.
You taught me the pet names only a lover should utter:
you are my liver
you have my heart
you are my honey.
Zendegi khali neest
I repeat to myself
when I feel empty.
You, a downpour of sugar,
inhabit me
sharing the bed and apartment designed for one.
It is always enough.
Beeper Peddle is a writer and healer living on the East Coast. She lives with her partner and their beloved soul puppy. Beeper writes about sorrows, lies, and deep loves. When you read her work, you will dip down into her heart and end up in all manner of body parts. Should you find yourself reflected in these words, it is merely coincidence; however, it does not surprise her you share the same heart. Find her at bethpeddle.com and @beeperpeddle on Twitter and Instagram
Author’s note: the line “Zendegi khali neest” is borrowed from the poem Dar Golestaneh by Sohrab Sepehri
Lily Sadighmehr (she/her) is a part-time substitute teacher, full-time bookseller with a love of poetry. She can be found in other independent bookstores, playing pinball, and perfecting her fesenjoon recipe in her free time. She lives in Seattle with her husband.
Want more of Lily? Check out her poem “Ghazal Pronounced Ghazal” from miniskirt Issue 7!
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