When a Mountain Wears Down

Seam by seam,

a mountain

had to erode

to get to the riverine

pebble she is.

Art-loving merchants;

a wicked granny who asked

the monkey-faced doc,

“Am I allowed monkey nuts?”

and died smiling;

a keeper of talking birds;

a Shia dancing girl;

an opium addict;

a comic novelist

who admired Gorky—

they bequeathed her

an unabrasive Urdu

smoothed by as many

tongues as nib pens.

She’s clear as water.

You can see through

to her heart.