Sometimes I'd startle something,
a flock of birds,
inside you
and your eyes
would ask me what it was.
Your body lifted
afterwards
and kept on lifting
like a fish
breaching the river's surface.
Fish and river,
you become yourself
when you transcend yourself
and if I dip my hand,
if I immerse myself,
it's for the life
that a river gives you;
how it startles your senses
into a drum beat,
like birds.
Featured here at the Islamabad Literary Festival. Published in A Brief and Biased History of Love.