We will meet,somewhere, sometime,in the nuptial embrace ofour grey and white memories. With your blessed arrival;The celebrated idols of our dark history,(their faces yet so rough and ugly),The explosives implanted in thewombs of our senile mothers,The bloodied trails on the ashenheads of our brides,The gunpowder, growling underthe rubble of our beloved palaces—Everything,Everything would get metamorphosedInto…