Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2012 v11n1
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Reasons for Staying
     After Taste of Cherry by Abbas Kiarostami

To begin, consider water pouring over the gray marble of the salamander’s eye, hard water whose deposits shimmer in goosenecked sink pipes, water that stains the teeth of widows, water and its mineral shadow floating over the city, crossing the new moon, entering the machine of hours.

Or, perhaps, the ocean dressing itself in the echo of its sources. Dead boats, old cable, depth charts, crab pots and their funereal ropes.

The donkeys in the lot at the edge of town, owned by a wild man who shot me more than once with rock salt. I took girls there, and two–pound bags of carrots, and stroked their long ears in the orchard light.

Finally, the way I hear two, slender, beautifully veined feet stepping out onto the high–wire of your voice.  

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