← v6n2, Fall 2007
Poetry · Volume 6, Number 2

3

Even the mighty gospelers of Karachi, the clap-happy

qawwals have taken umbrage at Allah. Four of the qawwals

refuse to clap, the fifth with his tabla beats an unsteady,

sinister beat tonight, and the lead qawwal Mr. Khan sprawls

face down, drunk on a shower of Rupees—only the harmonium

from its corner carries on wheezing like a sick plaintiff.