Just in time

I have been

cooling for reason

and come out

from the heat

my chest a tight

rope, my eyes

neon blinking open

and my mouth, cute

when I finish


I forget why

I started. It isn’t it a lot

to say ‘never forget’

to write 24 May / 9

November in bronze

bow your head

without meaning

and say ‘traditional

owner’. There is no

owner, no parade

I can remember

wanting to forget

and coming close

to his eyes, his yellow,

his mucous, his straw

sometimes we drink

the song says

so we can remember

sometimes we drink

to forget. So we remember


and so we forget

the boats come and go,

rafts really rats

bloated and half sunk

— our eyes cross


when we look north

or west or east we

forget, as I forget,

how it started how

the moon went yellow

one night and looked

like his eye, the snake

did eat his own tail and

wouldn’t you, friend,

if you were hungry enough

wouldn’t you forget

wouldn’t you fly out,

risk the drown

wouldn’t you dig

and dive all the way in?



First published in The Missing Slate (Pakistan), March 2013