The trees shadow and
Un bark, our initials flaunted.

The yellow hue is baked
And naked are the letters.

Undone are alphabets of
stories. Tomorrow doesnt
exist. The flaf is torn and
washed.

Spelling is wasted on the
young.

Today sheds minutes on your own words
grave, dappled letters
ride down the sidewalk
and I am forever mottled.


You took away


your name
, written with the wind

and songs


unsung.


Caroline Shank
10.20.2023

Salman Rushdie was given a fatwa death threat
For writing The Satanic Verses

He says he does not believe in God
Or a heaven or hell after death.

He is literary, not religious.

But he also says
That when he writes
He has to use words like soul
And that there is something
Religion-like in the use of his imagination
To create believable fictional worlds.

And that he is struck
When in the UK
By the beauty of old cathedrals and churches.

He talks of future religion
As being in religion
But in a different way.

       My my, Xie xie