HIBAH SHABKHEZ

Xylocarps Lie Like You

You are the falling sky, the dormant
  Catastrophe. Smiling
    Serenely

Down, like a coconut on a tree
  Fixed, solid, refusing
    To roll. Then -

Shattering heads, like a snide comment
  From an adored teacher -
    Infernal,

Everlasting. Xylocarps lie like
  You, broken by the things
    They crush when

They become weapons for the sky, strike
  As bidden, at strangers,
    Strike to kill -

Hoping still to outstrip destiny
  By swaying the wind. Wings
    Do not grow

From cringing, unfluttering fibres,
  But hope seeps out slowly
    With the juice -

You offer a trapdoor enough plums,
  It might just spring open,
    Latched or not. 

Hibah Shabkhez is a writer of the half-yo literary tradition, an erratic language-learning enthusiast, and a happily eccentric photographer from Lahore, Pakistan. Her work has previously appeared in Pleiades, Miracle Monocle, Glassworks, Windsor Review, Moria, CommuterLit, 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  Twitter X: @hibahshabkhez Insta: @shabkhez_hibah