Spatula clutched in my hand
and under the sizzling pancakes.
I think of the end of the day;
the last minute before nightfall.
The cakes are henna-coloured now.
There are some distant onomatopoeic
sounds in the twigs of sanober trees.
Maybe the last minute of the day resembles
the liminal space under a bivouac,
stranded at the foothills of the Margallas.
I am there. My eyes envision flying bullets.
Of course, this land is not a warzone,
but it has known war like a blood relative;
our forefathers’ displaced smoke signals.
At the end of the day I know how
the day ends, and it isn’t a big deal.
Neighbour’s barbecue soiree is a movie
I close my eyes to, almost steadily.
The ashen briquettes clonk together,
birthing a noise I can almost see;
a white thread in the night, trapped
in the tarnished contours of the railing.
The sky is a discarded frying pan.
Hiba Heba is an English-language poet from Pakistan. She is a graduate student of English literature and linguistics. She has a micro-chapbook, Grief is a Firefly, published by Origami Poems Project, 2021. Hiba’s poem “Morning Prayer” is the First Runner-up for the New Feathers Award 2021. Her poems have appeared in Fragmented Voices, Ink, Sweat & Tears, The Wild Word, The Ofi Press Magazine, The Punch Magazine, among others. Her debut poetry collection, Birth of a Mural, will be published by Golden Dragonfly Press. She can be found on Instagram as: hiba.heba_.
Eunoia Review 
Beautifully worded.