Panic Poem by Fatima Nusairat

Never crossed my mind
When I get attached into wind's clothes
while It runs noisy in our courtyard home,

I'll stumble suddenly:
In filament spiders in upper door of home,
in hand-print of my father's on a table.
in the smell of my mother's dress in bedroom.

I'll stumble..
in remnants of bread crumbs on table.
in wailing' candles, rustle curtains,
in dark mirrors, dormancy seats'
in cobwebs in corners,
In clothing, shadows, and in every things.

Night here in everywhere.

But I woke up dazed, on alarm clock,
exactly, on completely death.