We Met In A Freezer
Vaporize me when I am ailing, pretty,
As golden as the ripest cooked chicken.
I have reentered my room of chickens,
Chills are learnt, it is the chimp.
My chin knows the damp style of weather,
My fridge I enter escaped me from the start,
My chinbone knocks hard with the furniture
Of ice and icicles, I have entered the future
Of cold weather, the real freezer.
Please me when you are vapour or ice,
Ice is all I am now, now that the man with the gun
Is against my leg and arm.
poem by Naveed Akram
Added by Poetry Lover
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