She saw in me an intensity, unwithered
and boundless, a red of sorts
redder than most Reds.
And when the sea turned blue,
the urchins camped out at night
waiting for me to heal.
© Fiza Arshad, 2017 All rights reserved.
Red curmudgeon trudges through treacherous
thorny paths, yammering about imbroglios where
crummy sourpusses sabotage jamborees:
backtalk bellyacher crimping cannonballs
A classic consummate modus operandi
for particularly onerous seafood.
© Fiza Arshad, 2016 All rights reserved.