A thousand fireflies flocked
to rest on the moon like a robe
their sweat black like the fur
of a soil cured
the night smelled of the breath
of a death a mile away
the leaves cried against palms
of a keeling whale
would my stay, having lingered
a millisecond longer,
brought the light of your lotus
to the star-pond closer?
Would my hand have caught
in the mouth of the lark?
The selfish pond reflected
the stitches of a jade star;
from it a life came born
from scavenges of the past
my face held down in the glow
of silver amassed
but the spirit of a heart never
rested on cold sand
my immortal thirst across raven
mountains spanned –
*This poem first appeared at Duane’s PoeTree
Sheikha A. is from Pakistan and United Arab Emirates. Her work appears in a variety of literary venues, both print and online. She has work upcoming in/with Poetry Repairs, Dreams and Nightmares, Poetry Bay, Cruel Garters, and some others. More about her can be found on sheikha82.wordpress.com
