Since she left, there’s a festering revolt on the tongue,But adulating in English feels ever so galat1 on the tongue.
She’s evaporated into the eld, a man of the future remains,the cacophony of civilization puts a halt on the tongue.
Clawed out vinyls, strung bouzouki and drunken blues,Scraps of her music linger, malt on the tongue.
The nawab clings to cinders, yearning for yesterdayHis paan performs a final somersault on the tongue.
Nazar’s glassy gaze melts fractals into the sands,That summer sublimates into cobalt on the tongue.
Mildew clings to memories, a flitting hippocrene,The names of silhouettes default on the tongue.
in this lacuna: tigers shed skin, magpies go mute,stanzas sputter, ink and pen waltz on the tongue.
when she shattered into spring, supernovae showeredgalaxies of pepper-and-salt on the tongue.
Who are you fooling, Aflatoon? She’s an ash heap of history?You’ve done nothing but exalt on the tongue.
***
[1] wrong