Turning into text
the image of an impulsive act
I place it upon the glass table of my cabin
While combing my hair
a strand falls upon the text.
Turning passionately into a bird
The text breaks open the window and leave the room.
Without blinking I go on staring at the bird.
till it crossed the distance beyond eye’s reach.
Now the text has left on the table
the white sheet.
Picking up the blank page once again
I start writing about the bird
opening the window.
J. Firoskhan