Arsonists Poem by Mehreen Mujeeb
Arsonists
The corpse wind
Stings his eyes
His acidic tears
Shovel holes in his skin.
Black smoke
Curls out of his pores
Burnt air
Vapourises his throat
Vapour burnt to ash
There is nothing left to burn
Yet he tries to breathe
He tries different chemical reactions.
Even though all his plants burnt
He grew more in the soil
That could photosynthesise
And extinguish the burnt air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/19/2024 9:56:45 AM # 1.0.0.1119
