Ghazal 2 Poem by Mushtaque B Barq

The ink of lashes on skin rough nursed thy name
For a reason, the open wounds cursed thy fame

Shall I into sandpaper turn my gaze or die?
For the sun-dried tulips on the walls versed thy claim
At the brims of puffs new, what signature what seal!
A breeze of the broken limb, but reversed thy flame

What starry roof shall bring down the curtains of yore?
When the wind beneath the full moon dispersed thy shame

Better a sinner in queues than a saint in cell
If division diversely divorced thy proclaim

What dust on the carpet can now alter by line?
Do come again, how was but unrehearsed thy aim

Oh, Sage! Earnest may thy way be and say too but
See how in crimson serum is immersed thy frame