Carpathian Pirouette - Basim UsmaniCarpathian Pirouette
Sometimes I strain to
rip those feelings out
of my mind and analyze
them to death. Somehow
it feels cut and past-
ed. Maybe I hope it is.
Sober, I stare at
the "hallowed" above
and hope the stars shooting cross.
Sometimes I wonder
if I'd been delivered*
a happy thought less.
My lanky arms sorta
feel like an empty
cavity or a
Spider's exo-
skeleton, skittering
in search for its body.
And the wherefores
may try as they might
to hammer my smartass smirk
into apathy.
But dreaming of
sleeping with arms tangled, 'wreathed,'
proves I've already won.
My eyelids flicker;
the corners of my eyes well up.
||||
*delivered as in born. Born with one less happy thought that everyone else had.
© Basim Usmani 2001.
