Song for a Watch Repairer
Saima Afreen

Beyond the horizons of red butterflies
Lies seashore of your eyes
with hour glasses sleeping softly
they were filled with moon dust
That pagan goddesses exhaled

With Galileo you, too, counted threads of light
Till they became stars, till they were hours

breathing in glasses of Marsala.

Broken on ships of cinnamon
Docked on radium harbours
There was Rome on your wrist.

You dissected Ship of Theseus in tiny wheels
That stopped with the stirring of spoon in your tea-cup
Till your bones glittered.

Rescuing lost minutes, seconds
lands, sands grinding with splinters
of grandfather’s clock
that Dali may have painted on a blue tree

it’s raining the way it may have rained
in Vietnam when Bible-believers smoked it
Rose quartz and its street were of the same hue.

The sparrows
Flow out through the cracks of skin
To mountains of dust on your table
At whose legs the sun has set
To find its fire, its kingdom…

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Saima Afreen
Saima Afreen grew up in Calcutta, smelling shiuli flowers and chewing different syllables. To breathe she churns poems; to earn a living she works as a journalist. Her poetry has appeared in several publications around the world, including The Nassau Review, Muse India, Coldnoon Travel Poetics, Ræd Leaf Poetry and Contemporary Literary Review India. She sometimes explores poetry in photography also. Blog: afreenafreen.blogspot.com