The Banana

Poem by

Zeenat Iqbal Hakimjee.


So I am meant to be fed to the monkey,

Wail till you have an encounter with my peel,


Without the night, stars you shall see,

For still life I join hands with friend apple,


Different shapes of me decorate a cocktail

I lie on the table as the knife slices me open,


An incision in my centre, split into pieces,

My seed in you sprout a plant


The likes of which you have to see to believe,

They should call you sprout a plant


I make ‘shakes’ about the reference

What you treasure to eat,


Out of which you should not make mincemeat


Writer is a poet and has written a book titled  H A R M O N Y a collection of poems.

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