Must anguish hover darkly on my brow,

   And I be absent, ditzy, dithering?

  Is it enough to wake up whispering

   Secrets to the moon, ask it to bestow

Names on all my windows and cupboard doors?

I sneer, and move on - but the stars call me

Back. Look, they whisper. Look like a poet.

  Look. Look for the poem in every tree -

All I find are branches laughing at me

   In the paperless dark.

Hibah Shabkhez is a writer of the half-yo literary tradition, an erratic language-learning enthusiast, and a happily eccentric blogger from Lahore, Pakistan. Her work has previously appeared in Rougarou, Backstory Journal, Porridge Magazine, Boats Against The Current, Samjoko Magazine, Five Minutes, and a number of other literary magazines. Studying life, languages, and literature from a comparative perspective across linguistic and cultural boundaries holds a particular fascination for her.

Linktree: https://linktr.ee/HibahShabkhez