BY IBRAR SAMI
Copyright is held by the author.
At midnight
the two of us
came to a halt
upon the same line.
Inside the darkness,
a cockroach
moved through the dark —
carrying its tiny world along.
You suddenly screamed,
“Cockroach!” —
the word itself
seemed to deliver a verdict.
Under the pressure of a foot,
language shattered.
In a silent explosion,
there appeared upon the floor
an inverted sky —
where walls begin to walk,
and windows
stare like eyes.
Thinking the fire had died,
I threw away the cigarette;
far into the dark,
it still glows faintly.
Outside, the wind is cold —
yet within the body
an invisible heat
slowly gathers.
The night paused
in a mute utterance —
behind an unfamiliar door
the cockroach
lost its shadow.
***
Ibrar Sami is the pen name of Samiul Bashir, a Bangladeshi poet writing in English and Bangla. His poetry explores memory, silence, loss, solitude, and quiet endurance through symbolic and philosophical imagery. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in international journals, magazines, and anthologies, including Antae, Mosaic Lit Journal, Inlandia: A Literary Journey, Ink, Sweat & Tears, The Inflectionist Review, The Pointed Circle, Levitate Magazine, and Ultramarine Literary Review. He is the author of Shadow and Silence and Where Shadows Break Silence. His poetry examines the intersections of private memory and collective human consciousness.