Yowling In Heart Poem by Fatima Nusairat

Why he hurled like that..
now and again? and what he is doing here
above the wall, in front of that window?
hits the cold air of Missouri
with hands, not by wings?

Why now walking on two legs
like the blade between the skin and the aorta
then in a plastic bag stows sands of
questions and polished by lashes of fire?

Why after all times and all seasons
Now flowing like a river of candy,
and behind the reflections of mirrors,
fades away and slips then sits as a cat,
looking with a raised head toward the dark corners
Yowling as if he jailed in a coffin of candles pain?

Why yowling like that..
now and again, over the wall,
In front of that window, hits the cold air
of Missouri without wings, my heart?