Darth
i shook darth vader’s hand in england when we were in a department store, and it was cold outside. fall had desiccated small holiday trees lined up on kensignton. if one could see what a summoning looks like in a season before winter, one could see these branches uprooted like crooked prayers. and my mother, who bludgeoned a crazy man with her purse moments ago in the jewelry section—a crazy man who walked around spitting on everyone, who stopped and pulled my hair and i felt my scalp yank toward the clouds, and my mother who left the house in a panic that morning with keys jangling in her hand, complaining about the rain, the stroke of big ben alarming the city of noon, and this mother of mine nudged me toward darth, who was tall, who underneath the death star colored cape and black boots, and humanoid circuitry wired to his chest controlling his heavy breathing, who smelled of plastic and coffee under his mask, was an ordinary man with an earthly need to drink tea, who spoke a disfluent version of english, part saxon, part farsi, part jealous of his partner’s boyfriend, and i stood before darth in awe of the planetary wars he had vindicated in his need to destroy and conquer solar systems, to swallow asteroids and gas filaments floating in swirls of space, and yet went home and took off his boots and waited for his partner to come home from work, which was usually late, which usually meant smelling like cigarettes and wine, so darth would reheat his tv dinner, and watch star trek, and i couldn’t speak but wanted to say please teach me how to skywalk, but instead darth shook my hand and patted me on the head like a good villain should.
Arthur Kayzakian is a poet, editor and teacher who lives in California. He was born in Tehran, Iran. His family sought political asylum in London when he was three years old to escape the Iranian Revolution. He earned his MFA from San Diego State University. He is a contributing editor at Poetry International. His chapbook, My Burning City, was a finalist for the Locked Horn Press Chapbook Prize and Two Sylvias Press Chapbook Prize. He is a recipient of the Minas Savvas Fellowship, and his poems and translations have appeared in or are forthcoming from several publications including Taos Journal of International Poetry & Art, COUNTERCLOCK, Chicago Review, Locked Horn Press and Prairie Schooner.