Kareem Tayyar: My Father’s Favorite Bookstore in Shiraz

Is on a small side street a few miles from his house.

“What wonders it has,” he tells me,

As if he were describing King Arthur’s castle,

Or the Impressionist Wing of London’s National Gallery,

Instead of a family-run shop whose back door opens onto a modest rose garden

Where a few stray cats spend their afternoons chasing butterflies

And sparrows.

“Just last week I found an old translation of Saadi’s The Bustan

That I hadn’t seen since I was a child.

I spent half the night reading through it,

And by 2am,

I was twelve years old again,

And the wind outside of my window was the voice of my mother

Calling me home for dinner.”

Copyright 2018 Kareem Tayyar