Kemal

by Samuel De Lemos

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It’s warm and the fan
Rotates, spins like
The earth
Circumnavigates
The sun.

It moves air
incessantly,
makes a quiet humming
sound.

The mechanism
Twirls attempts
To cool my sultry room.

The brisk flow reaches
My warm skin;
Spins like a
Whirling Dervish.

Will the fan reach
Perfection?
Will it
Attain Kemal?

I wish I wasn’t its god,
Or that I had
The power to end
Its search for truth
With a mere
Flick of a switch.