Revival
This time, I will bring pansies and a moderate exordium
justifying the absence, the red roses are too obvious
like last year’s squabbles need to be buried. Power
went off, a saint in a motley garb appeared, leaving
behind a long stare, behind twilight-tinged windows,
I was browsing on the phone.
Somewhere, cows mooed, and the smell of rancid butter
took over the kitchen in total disarray, neighbors were
preparing a feast, the wheatfields spilled a golden yield,
old gods perishing as April’s trees stood in silent ecstasy,
the world’s gardens are incented with gunpowder.
I want a ceasefire, ever since she stopped returning my calls,
a candle was burning right in front of me on the table.
by Prof. Rizwan Akhtar
Punjab University
Lahore Pakistan
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