I Surgeon Poem by Naveed Akram

I surgeon the mistress with airforce,
This flight of the ordinary air, ten banks
Cannot contain, bees have more money
Than the computers of such credits.
My button pressed, a flower ejects,
Kinsmen come regularly to buttress
My mistress, in her ill ways.
My family is around my hammer of skill,
The knife submerges like air,
The scalpel masters perfume,
With a floodlight to maniacally inspire.
Where is the hive? When do they blitz
The wild entrails and viscera?
A flower concerns and corrects my familiar
Bridge of a country called Gibraltar.