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Nasrin Ahmed Poem
I would love to have no home,
So I can live here on the side of the street with the sun.
It’s golden light would warm me
And I would not mind so much having no walls.
I would sit right there underneath the green leaves
And tilting my head back, say good morning to the woman in the window.
I would say how do you do the man in the doorway across the street.
I would tell the people going into Denrees what a wonderful store it is.
I would watch people pass and shout to them about what a lovely life I led.
I would cloud watch with the neighborhood
and play games with the children while their mothers shopped.
Then, when the sun set, I would watch the street lamps go on
And huddle to myself, waiting for morning to light the streets once more.
Copyright © Nasrin Ahmed | Year Posted 2011
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Details |
Nasrin Ahmed Poem
The poem is sitting on your fingertips
And dancing around your lifelines.
It is hiding in the moonlit tombstones
Daring you to catch it
As it reappears in the broken cement of the backyard,
Until you trap it in the stalks of the plants
And make it green.
The poem’s in the broken glass and grass near the graveyard
In the shiny regularity of the bottles at the mini mart.
You can hear it in your neighbor’s argument
And sync it to the rumble of the trains.
The train tracks that just yesterday,
Oozed a puddle of red into the cement below:
The legacy of a woman in despair.
Hear the eulogy they give her an hour later
As the trains start again.
It’s in the walk across the street
To that shadowy porch.
Whisper it into the winds and
Let it fly past the telephone lines
Into the dotted fabric of the sky.
Copyright © Nasrin Ahmed | Year Posted 2011
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