Kajal’s Rubaiyat 

even better than carrots for your eyes, 

my matchstick wand is a rune in disguise, 

sandalwood’s child wrapped in crumpled tissue,

burnt moonlit ash waterlines rosy skies,

tear ducts fill with perfect muddy Urdu,

a love letter on my lashes renew,

who needs Iris or Cupid if I have my spell,

eyes widen with khala’s kiss; I’m anew,