A Quiet Area Poem by Naveed Akram

This a quiet area, brings promise
Coughing its way to the key body;
The root of rest is the angle of age,
My library rightly proposed the rule
Of this copper tube inside,
The wrapping of cotton was brought
Into view, with rivers and rhythms of the
Water seething into the sands.

My library is my coughing with roots,
Respecting the rice of the pages;
It is my responsibility to rescue the rights,
To realise the request, so the wheeling
On this roof I have called justice.
The top man is about the roof
Thumbing his pages on the roof of a
Cave this way in that tunnel,
Like jaundice and scrawny legs.