Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)
My Mother And I
My mother told me I was
Beautiful. A wiggling squad of tadpoles
Can recognise my behaviour for them.
For they make different orders,
Hating the oblique and obscure
But loving the books of your bite.
My mother saw how ugly these tadpoles
Were. Compared to me.
Who am I as a wonderful fellow?
The yawning has ceased past this time,
The objectives cease from the wine.
A wiggling head has arisen
And my mother called me beautiful.
Strapped to the slowly turning Earth,
By the back I was hollow
And the shallow water gave way,
Ceasing, and sending me away.
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