Who Is My Assassin Poem by Zillur Rahman Shuvro

Who is my assassin? Is silent weevil?
Is shadow of unfaithful? Thunder of Michael!
Is evil spirit of cursed house? Lead of air?
Nicotine or guillotine! The proud Sun god!
Answers of all are note of exclamation.
Is the basking crocodile in the broken land by river?
Is Royal Bengal Tiger or Piranha?
Is the venomous snake which breaks stairs of leaves?
Is a state that runs through the tunnel of darkness? A fascist!
Is a torture cell like Gestapo? Are the conquered solders
Those are walking on the ruined city?
Is the wrong scissor of surgeon in the operation theater?
All are silent like lifetime deaf and dumb.
At last, the finger of question turned to me in ninety degrees…
When the extra-marital love of convex and concave lens
Be revealed, the sandbank into the marrow of bone,
The lime of invisible lime-dealer into the pore of the skin,
Moreover, count down starts towards the dark fall…
Realized that nobody is my assassin but I am!