Illustration: AI Manora for and after Karachi Rivers run grey where humans are debris — the refusal of attainment — speaking of charity like it is a war on the verge of life’s final bed — a den of monogamy called sinless aspirations. This launch is a body of wood where lovers have scraped fate-lines with forked knives. A static of belligerent cries swirl as salt-air right here, in the middle parting of her hair; scalp white like the sea's tear-fomented froth, while all we did