Srinagar II

When a goat herder

threw a sizeable stone bludgeon

at one of the dogs that accompanied us

down the mountain when we came,

I almost fainted at the thought of impact.

The poor beast.

When thunder rumbled and

a flash of lightning lit the underside of the sky—

a tent of cumulus, index finger-thumb propped

by the Great Unmeaning—

I’d be lying

if I didn’t admit that some part of me

was expecting it to be a bomb.