Hot Rain Poem by Naveed Akram

Hot Rain



boiling water sprays verily,
rocking the hand with heat.

taken earlier is the body
next the face, then the fingertips.

diamonds sparkle, she may be
me mourning, frightened.

the road kicks and crackles;
whirlpools end the time with death.

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Naveed Akram

Naveed Akram

London, England
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