Poetry: Water Under The Bridge by Hibah Shabkhez

Water Under The Bridge

I looked away, and Time did steal
     A sliver of my home;
Licked it off like a mud-sauce streak
     From a sea’s drying foam.

‘You owe me water,’ said the dam
     To the river. ‘My dish
Body cracks, dries to a mud-jam
     Of dead and dying fish.’

‘Thief,’ said the river, ‘you have leached
     And stagnated eaux
Destined for my rock-bones, now bleached
     And withered in their woe.’

Time flowed past us, its zeal unworn
     And scooped up homes amain;
Scattered its birds like popping corn 
     On the floor of my brain.

Bio: Hibah Shabkhez is a writer of the half-yo literary tradition, an erratic language-learning enthusiast, and a happily eccentric blogger from Lahore, Pakistan. Her work has previously appeared in Fevers of the Mind, Black Bough, Zin Daily, London Grip, The Madrigal, Acropolis Journal, Lucent Dreaming, and a number of other literary magazines. Studying life, languages, and literature from a comparative perspective across linguistic and cultural boundaries holds a particular fascination for her.
Linktree: https://linktr.ee/HibahShabkhez

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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