Author’s Note: I am going to attempt to write this poem backwards. Stay tuned to see progress!
Concerned party, in a not so concerned but a very
nonchalant manner, says “So what happened to your poetry stuff
you used to do?”
Myself, seemingly shocked and not so shocked
at the same time, working up a high-pitched tone
while reflecting on all those times I left unsung
biblical scriptures for dead transactions, uttered
“What do I write on?”
© Fiza Arshad, 2016 All rights reserved.
The talisman dates back to an era
of protectors and soldiers,
an ornament sent from an Egyptian heaven,
to protect the queens from negative
energies and punk kids who turn
these pages (reverently).
She is afraid to wake her grandmother, who reclines
on the rocking chair, sleeping with a shiny
gemstone clutched to her chest,
winking at the mermaid in the storybook.
© Copyright 2015