Salik Shah

Planes of papers these are
that travel all the time
until they're tossed in the
mud and I try to figure
out words forged into rocks

Inspiration is a bird which we
cannot see but flies around us
see I caught one
my spilling doesn't stop
the bump lights the
waterfalls inside the water tanks on
these houses made up of hot
air and light bulbs that smell
like mosquito coils and taste like
sweat and dream of green
fairies flying over frying pans

noodles breath cold thin
eyes curls hands and heads
fused my face and names that she
forgot
a tower a
flash
my legs hanging
upside down my pain disappears
only fingers are

when you see a flock of white
birds — say goodbye.

June 24,08