My father wound the old clock
once
then left it still
He said the hands
reminded him of Tehran
I never asked
what he meant
Now
in its quiet face
I see streets
he never described—
dust
and jasmine
stalled mid-breath
sellers shouting
into a silence
that keeps their voices
but never returns them
I wonder
how long
the clock
can hold
what refuses to pass
what refuses to stay
Nima Kian is a Pushcart Prize–nominated Iranian American poet whose work explores migrations of language, memory, and place. His writing traces the porous borders between past and present, home and elsewhere. He teaches writing in Berkeley, California, and his poems have appeared or are forthcoming in national and international journals and anthologies.