100 poems/52 weeks challenge’ 2018
In the city of heart,
cold weather like an honest storm,
wrenching your face like
an old lady rowing a boat full of
people peopled by
An irritant in the eye
and a knife in the navel
the curtains on the window
and dust in the mouth of the dead,
land, oh land, you Eliot’s maze.
To be doomed upon the platter of friends;
As soon as the starving ghosts sat to eat in the graveyard,
their food turned into the stones of sea,
my food, a pen.
Hunger is endless.
Another cold day of May,
a tree oiled by the witch under the Peepal
like a girl possessed by the devil,
and I am sleeping,
but not “sleeping”,
I simply can’t open my eyes.
But sometimes an odd spark in the wind,
brims me up
burns the fallow lands of my mirthless men
and for a moment,
just for a moment,
I can remember again.
Memory is a pill
One must take every night before bed.