Treasure Island

Naveed Akram

(15 December 1973 / London, England)

Strands Of Hair


I smashed at the strand of hair,
Doing dazzling beauty and byes for the speakers,
My continuing concerns reminded my reading.

The wedding present twisted me further,
I smashed and clashed with causes that differed,
These monsters of the trench were against me.

You could not mind and realise
What she was doing with two hundred dollars
As thanking hair was read from the spine.

They were in small print, there was the sudden
Stretching and squashy thuds, the reality had dimmed
And causes were exact like the wrecks and soldiers of wounds.

She lay hands on one knee, she lied to the ideas
Surrounding the clashes of the scene,
She pulled herself together luxuriously.

Submitted: Monday, November 18, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, November 19, 2013

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