Fishing
Children trawl knee-deep
in the mud of receded
shallow waters
for small finned things
that dart among rippling clouds
Stick figures slow-dance
with bamboo-frame nets
and clay pots on strings-
the smallest of them pitches
forward, baring buttocks
brown as midday prayers
I feel despair threading
through my thickening frame
as I look from chugging train
down banked years at myself
skipping with sparrows in the sun
in the mud of receded
shallow waters
for small finned things
that dart among rippling clouds
Stick figures slow-dance
with bamboo-frame nets
and clay pots on strings-
the smallest of them pitches
forward, baring buttocks
brown as midday prayers
I feel despair threading
through my thickening frame
as I look from chugging train
down banked years at myself
skipping with sparrows in the sun
Fakir Mowla lives in New York city.
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