Excuse me Sir!
If the holy cow slips
tin roofs falling over
under lots of iron beams would we always die?
the teacher a tremour slipping down his face
pulled the pocket bottoms off his hands
and heavens fell down on the Nth class
crushed benches
lessons fallen from children’s hands
and the walls what dreams they harboured for the inhabitants
except for a hand that appeared out of the rubble
rose the sound of a finger!
Excuse me Sir!
May I get up!?
Poet: Ali Abdolrezaei
