The Book-Binder Poem by Sadiqullah Khan

The book-binder on the foot steps, holding
a wide bladed scissor, on a board, having
been pierced, scratched, it is made of wood.
The plate-form. I am forcing myself not to become
eloquent, off the point, and hazy.

They have sent my book to the book-binder
For a dummy copy. Words ending with ‘ed’
by the end of line, and words ‘for’, ah!
Such hatred is evoked by word ‘move’
a similitude of, as by ‘that’ and such, not
mentioning ‘plethora of commas’, apostrophes
and quotation marks. I do not know where to put
question mark or sign of exclamation, inside a quote
a full stop outside. My inconsistency has become
a style. The binder will send me the dummy book.

A ‘khan bhai’, selling nuts, dried fruits and pine-nuts
called by the binder, to hold the sharp edged
long chisel like instrument (for want of its original name)
to dig a hole, in a book, and sew its back-bone with
white thread. A transparent sheet as cover; hoping
the pages still readable. Inside, a poet’s friends
-of Beat Poetry, were sitting
on railway tracks meditating, and stopping a train
carrying plutonium waste. In 1978.
Whether they stopped the plutonium train or not,
I had a terrible desire to weep, weep and weep.

The ‘khan bhai’ after helping the binder
sat by his stock, all, carryable in a basket made of straw.
Some trades are such a beauty, some desires so small.
Some faiths so strong, some souls so adorable.

Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
November 28,2013.

John the Book-Binder, Painted with coffee, Andy Saur and Angel Sarkela @ INeedCoffee