Sunday, April 9, 2017

A Monsoon Note on Old Age by Agha Shahid Ali


A Monsoon Note on Old Age

This is fifty years later: I
sit across myself, folded in
monsoon sweat, my skin

shriveled, a tired eunuch, aware
only of an absence;
                               the window bars

sketch a prison on me;
                               I shuffle the stars,

a pack of old cards;

                               the night regains
its textures of rain. I overexpose
your photograph, dusting

death’s far-off country

 

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