(I)

Weekends are the toughest for her

Her little girl
Late up from sleep on non-school days, would
Scamper through her breakfast, faster
Than on a school day, try to
Wriggle out of washing her hands rinsing her mouth
Rush to her dad

He would grimace in pain smile in joy, as she
Flung herself into his lap
Dutifully change the channels,
She nestled into his lap, encased
In his arms, rest her head on his chest

He waited till
He knew she needed him no more
Eased himself out from under her
Time alone for the two of them, and
The household chores

One month and more after
They both need him
Hurts them to watch the cartoons
Watch them no more

Weekends are the toughest for her
Her girl takes up all her time


(II)

Frenetic calls to the manufacturers
Frayed nerves, frayed tempers
The rescue teams, must have their boots
One month and more after
Soles, still burn through the soles

(III)

Had to pay
Two dirhams as parking fee
Wasnt allowed into the
Parking lot of my American bank
Walked in the hot sun

One month and more after
The heat still singes

(IV)

One month and more after
Muse has flown away
The Poet will wait for Death
Flood, fire or plague to
Brew a new concoction, then
The ink will flow
_________________________________


Cashmeeri
Oct 13, 2001