Ultimatum

This is no war. But

You crucify yourself

Then call it a crucifix

And leave me no option

But to defend my faith.

I am such an Antigone

Apt to create such tragedies

Even Sophocles cannot think of.

The dead belong to the earth

The alive to me.

This is not a reason if it is spring

And all sparrows chirp chirp

Leaf by leaf of their tree.

Today is the last day of Spring;

What’s your excuse tomorrow?

The fruit of patience

Is sweet to Shams

But I am no Rumi.

One more drop of your negligence

And the cup will overflow.

One of these days

You are going to hear

The favorite caesura

I rarely ever use in poetry:

Damn you.