● POETRY IN VOICE
THE CRUSADE AGAINST SPRINGTIME
By Nadia Irshād
New Paragraph
My neighbour hacks away at flowers.
He worms around at night cutting buds and pulling petals.
The rose bush by my front door wounded him last night.
He left a trail of blood behind.
In the morning he gathered a crowd.
They were banging on my door.
He had them thinking I had attacked him,
shaking his fists as they shouted,
within which he had clasped poppies.
