The Heat of His Departure

He didn’t suffer much. The agonies
of measuring the streets would never
have him but at least he knew

to count the days by who has not
yet died. He meant to map a city
with his feet and bring home to her

new pictures of his heart. But she never
heard the music of roads and shop lights, she only

knew his feet that beat the pavement
dry. She left home without him. He
grew tired of walking but failed to stop,

didn’t find an edge, didn’t fall,
but slowly, without a thought to her clouds

suddenly above him, dissolved
into tar and concrete, wet in his own way.

Years later, she would still feel
the heat of his departure as she

rained and rained and rained
his streets dry.

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  2 comments for “The Heat of His Departure

  1. a.
    14/11/2007 at 2:50 pm

    This describes to me someone I know. Wierd. Also reminds me of Faiz’s poem: “Kya Karain” –

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