Losing It - Poem by Ahmed Maiwada
The archangel of love's archenemy
whisks me, a fly, like a rocket tail.
The wheeled spirit rolls me from
you; shares a chilled sea between
Us - flamed earths that we are blown
off. My passage swift; I, a dashing
Second, past you, the fast hour
mark; the dasher knowing he will
Return. Here, emotions gush in
torrents. But it's swimming,
and I'm a swimmerer: your face is the
only feeling I see down the dark
Throat of our foe. I, you turn his
weapon; stab him in the back thus
Stretched. You're the rice of passage;
I, the throat in waiting. I see you
And you see me, statue, my arms
the tar roundabout you: solitude
A crushed calabash still around us.
Comments about Losing It by Ahmed Maiwada
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.