I heard the incessant dissolving of silk—
I felt my heart growing so old in real time.
Her heart must be ash where her body lies burned.
What hope lets your hands rake the cold in real time?
Dear Friend, the Belovèd has stolen your words—
Read slowly: the plot will unfold in real time.
"Ghazal," Agha Shahid Ali
[Damen Avenue below Division Street]
