Age of Jahiliyah

A blog of wide and varied interest, including Islam, Muslims, Poetry, Art and much more.

The Black Dinner Jacket

The stars twist into space like tarnished brass buttons

and I find I am badly suited for the foregone conclusion

that there is nothing in my pockets save the hint of rain,

which is itself an expired coupon, as faded and useless

as the menu handed to me behind the abandoned café

where bonfires smelt semiprecious metals into blades


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