The world is ablaze. Unrest unrests. Winter exits, slow, blurry-eyed. Blossoms push through oblivious, say, what did I miss? Oh, nothing much, frowns Winter, just some idiot wants a pan-Slavic universe and sent a bunch of tanks to persuade everyone. Oh, says blossom, nodding, what’s a tank?
Hey, said the mercenaries, roll over.
Be gone, demon! said the people.
You’ll regret that, said mercenaries.
To the death! yelled the people and charged.
Mercenaries climb back into their tanks, tutting
but momentarily thwarted.
What does the poet know? Their words are not ammunition, no one understands them half the time.
M’sieu, the poet knows everything, they just code it up.
What’s the point of that? So only a select few get it? Isn’t that a bit smug?
I think it’s cause they’re shy.
I’d say it’s criminally vulgar.
Is change the same as transformation? How? Why not?
The quandariness of skirmish.
The giantess of disorder.
The anatomy of the twisted days.
Just throw all the words at it, see what happens, says poet.
Forget words, I want ice cream, says poet friend.
Don’t you care? Our stunted spring blows strange winds
and you want ice cream, says poet.
Well, I already ate my words, said poet friend
and I’m still hungry.
Russian soldiers swan into a house, frighten a woman’s elderly father. Get out, she screams, clumsily tries to brandish a weapon she has never used. They look at each other then back at her. Relax, they say, we’re only looking for food and smokes. Got any? Hands shaking, she gives them some and they leave. Fuming, she glares lasers at their departing backs. The fucking audacity.
© N. Nazir 2022
Written for Shay’s Word Garden, where Shay gives us inspiration with Edna St Vincent Millay (who I had never heard of before now). Words used: winter, blossoms, idiot, swan (changed from swans).
Shared for dVerse Open Link Night, hosted by Lisa and Sanaa.
*The phrase ‘criminally vulgar’ is taken from a Smiths song.