i recovered a book from the river tigris where it was thrown by the
mongols, it was the year of the hejira 656, i was poor for the mercy of god
then as i am now, laying motionless in a pit, but a river is seized and it is
burning tonight, what can i recover after this siege?
a wounded bird near me, a babbler,
is driving its head,
burying its frightened eyes into sand,
its heart is a beating alarm clock,
rock-hard, tick-tock, a bomb
programmed to burst in the morning,
i will recover you, a birdie, you will go off with the first blast of dawn, off
through the red sky to the heavens' gate to spread our news, a fire is set
at the gailani library, you must tell them, and the book i took from the
river is in danger again, the barbarians are back

Published in in SublteTea.com (USA).