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