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22 yards


we erupt in answered prayers and kinship

the yorker has pulled us close

I'm not sure how many of my most sincere supplications

have been for wickets to fall

I revel in all the glory of an uprooted stump

the bails land somewhere

between me and my father

a distance that shortens every time

we pretend it’s not there


take care not to scruff the rough patch intentionally

the umpire is watching

Pakistanis will be accused of ball tampering

or bending their elbows


it is their bending of their backs

I am indebted to