Death

It is so cheap

like it is everywhere-

on the highways,

under the bridges,

disappeared

at the bottom of lakes,

floating on water, forsaken

by nearest ones,

from tree hanging

upside down

needed by no one,

grounded in mud licked by dogs,

sent away by doctors,

wrapped in white, slapdash,

no ritual,

collapsed open in marketplaces

eyed by curious ones,

stabbed in the dark

found perfectly in two-piece

beside railway track,

taken away from home

dumped anonymous,

from heaven lightning sudden

onto the sheltering trees,

with fire charred like coal

in profit factories,

from neighbour's place

the noise of mourning

like the slow smoke from chimney,

in all places, may be now or tomorrow

happening....

Yasif Ahmad Faysal teaches English at the University of Barishal.