A Poem

A ferocious heat induced meditation 
And the world was blurred in a haze
The streets were torrid cauldrons 
On which the pedestrians baked.
Silence was the staple of nightmare 
People walked with downcast eyes
They were absorbed into meditation 
On the proceedings of their daily lives.
Nobody has seen hell but heard of it
Heard so much that it's a veritable thing.
Mythologies, literature, folklore 
We buy the fuel of imagination from.
But we burn the fuel on boiling streets
And we hallucinate hell to burn in it.

Masud Mahmood is a Professor of English, Chittagong University.