A Poem

A ferocious heat induced meditation 

And the world was blurred in a haze

The streets were torrid cauldrons 

On which the pedestrians baked.

Silence was the staple of nightmare 

People walked with downcast eyes

They were absorbed into meditation 

On the proceedings of their daily lives.

Nobody has seen hell but heard of it

Heard so much that it's a veritable thing.

Mythologies, literature, folklore 

We buy the fuel of imagination from.

But we burn the fuel on boiling streets

And we hallucinate hell to burn in it.

Masud Mahmood is a Professor of English, Chittagong University.