Noor-e-Sehar Ali
Seeded bread, Butter (2022)
THE RED BLOOD cells are
sparse
He buys
Spinach
Red meat
He does not know about the
pomegranates.
The days are long it’s a good thing
Life is shorter
Than the days
That add up to its
Some footsteps are slower
The hair is falling he says
It looks good
when it is long
Like Hers.
He has No Clue
About the Bad
Things that happen in the Long
Days ago I think he caught a
Glimpse of the blue letter
With the white font
The bad news
In wasted ink.
Life as fickle
as spinach leaves.
Fingers green
I wash and tear
Life sometimes
For a brief moment
As tender
As his Slow Cooked Lamb
Carved with blunt knives
Sinews strawn out by teeth.
No good knives allowed
In the house his children are
Clumsy they are bad
They are Haemoglobin Hungry.
‘I can’t believe what I have witnessed!’ He cries
‘What happened?’ I run
‘I have found the Sweetest Mango,
I must go and buy more immediately.’
He leaves like spinach.
We don’t speak a word about this or that or her
Text me, he says.
Seeded bread,
Butter. I reply.