In my still library,
I allow fate to be a lost elephant
that needs the mother of all water
walking haphazardly on the x-axis,
and I allow telepathy be a young scorpion;
scurrying down the y-axis.
I allow these busy intersections, and sweet false realities
to stifle the turbulence in my head.
I sift through pages that I’ve written
and some day I’ll revise the words, but there is no erasing.
Unaccustomed by your courage,
coiled in my shells,
the truth is obsolete —

but I’m content here in my library
cushioned upon soft words,
protected by compositions of other spirits before me
although I dislike their advice:
to keep writing, to keep living, to keep loving,
to discontinue the intersections —

I remember when all I had was my mother.

In my small library,
you slipped inside,
with no respect for privacy
though the flash of your teeth said it all,
meek truth bouncing in your eyes.
You said “there’s too much on your mind”,
and you ripped out
a page, one
after the other,
and another,
shreds free-falling to the floor

I hunted out my favourite lines,
in pages I’ve written of you —
strewn about, the mess of a juicy fruit,
pomegranate pulses
bookmarked and oiled with fingerprint stains.
Not even a stream were you,
but I drew in your dew,
and not even a famine or debris am I,
to allow your mouth to spill water,
arming me for slaughter.
Maybe I’ll call it fate still —
or a skewed form of telepathy.
You knew I only thought of you —
as you navigate knowingly amongst bulging papers,
some like flowers,
like birds, trying to open petals,
wings, mouths —
refusing stubbornly
against returning into the tight shelf slots.

So forgive me if I call it fate, telepathy,
perhaps even voodoo.
My papers, my worlds, my heart
they are nostalgic for you,
as if

you have died
as if

you exist simply as a memory
as if

I don’t know who I miss
but I miss you —

and how can I feel nostalgic for you
when you’re right there, across the river
and the Jājrūd still flows,
furious and oblivious —

And when the ink dries on these pages,
will you give it all to me then?