My Arithmetic Poem by Naveed Akram

The arithmetic strikes at the mind and heart,
Bases are hurt, foundations are plucked.
My birthday makes a cobweb like the spider
Of pain and agony, of special suffering.
Flags appear to dissolve the dock that shivers,
My beetles reside in the legs, and hearts disapprove.
My beam of light polishes the soothing skin,
Classes of corn stagger at the appeal made by me.
Let the firemen enter, now that baskets of trouble
Collapse under the sun and moon and planets.