FORUM LIT

Drumroll Season
Abeer Hoque

she sits on the bed
as the rain counts out
the minutes of her life
on the tin roof
dhip dhap
a gigolo wind
steps through the grilled window
furls the pages of the calendars on the wall
obsolete all
2005 falls back with a slap
1998 caresses '99
she undoes her khopa
in a lightning crackle
and now the real rains
begin.

The Metropolitan Museum and After
Faisal Salahuddin

Why couldn't we meet at the Met
Under Aurangzeb's dream in the Asian gallery,
Before the Persian river from your eyes
Devoured me a like a forbidden vortex
Numbing my Victorian immigrant senses
We both miserably pretended that
The thunder between our well-demarcated worlds
Did not pull us together
Like a blackhole beyond every pedestrian's view,
Before we slided
Into the zero gravity of
Early quiet morning in the Central Park
And
Until you suffocated me
With your hair and
Tabooless glances,
Even after the empty glasses
Stood silently on the crowded coffee table
Like obedient soldiers.