I’ve Been Flipping the Pages of Your Quran
I’ve been flipping the pages of your Quran
.
so it looks like you’ve been reading in bed.
.
I read it too, under the tree that got so hot
.
we used to hose it down in the summer.
.
I’ve been having dreams of using again,
.
but like seeing black horses, I think it’s a sign
.
of something spiritual going on, like the dentists
.
chair tilting backwards at the wrong moment.
.
I’ve been talking to your shape about religious
.
.
lidocaine, have got in your bed and then left
.
for mine again. The same kids are still there
.
on the basketball court next to West Fourth.
.
Our streetlights still turn on ten minutes early,
.
before dusk has even hit. I imagine you still
.
shake your wrist after writing unsendable letters.
.
I’ve practised my Urdu spelling, injected it
.
on to my inherited, often mistaken tongue,
.
if only to imagine you insist from the bathroom
.
doorway, spraying your heavy perfume, that
.
the handwriting needs work. You might be right.
.
It’s a warm winter once again, and our leaves
.
turned to mulch in the gutter, throwing up
.
water that trickles down the street to my feet.
.
It’s the weather here you disliked, wasn’t it?