The Night I Died

I well remember that night The night I died The sky was pouring On the reflections of the dancing street lights I stomped I was cold and scared I could sense the ghosts chasing me on the demolished walls I dashed but then a blast and I was thrown to the ground Now I was counting the stars, rain washing off my blood The little star winked at me If I wasn’t dead I could go and tell my roommate that even stars were hitting on me Death held me tight, I could feel his stare I wish death was a woman so I could hide my face in her hair But death looked more like “Akbar” the guy who sold vegetables in the market With the same lustful eyes And hands marked with callosity after he took too many lives He wrapped his fingers around my neck And laid his wet lips on my throbbing head His breath smelled like cigarette and some staled food I felt nauseous and threw up all the soul I contained I couldn’t be surer that I was dead; looking at his satisfied face The very same look men give after an ******; His hands were rejecting me now So I lifted the hems of my spirit and flew up Counting the infinite stars in the sky As my feet were lingering from the roof top of the blue mosque I am dead! Rahy March 23-2016