A Morsel of Light by Shabnam Piryaei

Once Upon a Time, 

a fisherman found a dog floating in a box at sea. The fisherman pulled the animal onto the boat and gave it some water and a bologna sandwich. A short time later the fisherman found another dog in a box. Then another and another until the fisherman’s boat was filled with dogs. The fisherman rowed laboriously to shore. All the dogs hopped out and followed him home. The fisherman lived alone in a shack behind a boathouse. That night, a man with a knife tried to break into the fisherman’s home as he slept. The cacophony of barking dogs startled the intruder and he fled. That night the fisherman had strange dreams. He dreamt of a beautiful mermaid that looked like the grocer’s wife. She was pregnant and birthing dog after dog. The fisherman knew: they were all his children.

Once Upon a Time,

an empty nest sat in the green branches of an orange tree. A passerby saw the nest and thought to whack it with a stick until it collapsed. Abandoned houses cast the day into diagonal logic. The passerby considered yanking the nest from the tree because it was like the open mouth of something dead. The nest reminded the passerby of something. The nest like teeth with a history of chewing and grinding and inner lips. The passerby approached the nest. And the tree spoke. The tree sounded ordinary and wonderful like light expanding. The passerby didn’t bludgeon the nest. The passerby stayed looking at the nest even as the season changed, even as night fell.

Once Upon a Time,

you’re about to drop a live lobster in boiling water. The lobster says your name aloud. She says it again, pleading. You stop. The lobster knows she has your attention. Put me on the counter for a moment, she says. You don’t like to be told what to do. You have half a mind to cook the lobster anyway. But the circumstances have jarred you. You put the lobster on the table. She immediately scuttles away. You dive for her but the animal falls to the ground and races to the open door. In your haste you run around the table and knock the enormous pot of boiling water on yourself. The lobster escapes out the back door onto a small street while you squeal with scald. Now, to find the ocean.

Shabnam Piryaei is an award-winning poet, playwright, and filmmaker. She’s published three books, and directed films that screened at film festivals and art galleries around the world. She’s founder and curator of MUSEUM. She is currently Artist-in-Residence at the Kala Art Institute. You can read more about her work here.

9 June 2023