night

night opens and shuts

like a warm generous mouth

i slip in 

and out again—

it closes

ive had a taste of the supple

the dark

the blankless, that is a street with building blocks 

and the whirring sounds of fury

the fury circumvents

and comes to a sudden standstill 

then there’s chaos

night has transformed

into an abyss where words get mistaken for signs

here, songs get translated to sirens 

we wade against time to the banks of memory

night was brief 

but real

and so is its reflection 

it has left me coiling back into my foetus self for now

inside it, i retch a little

i writhe

i spread my fists open and grab what light enters space between my fingers

i draw them around me and hold

the night has sucked and let go one more time

i’m floundering in the aftertaste 

of the softness 

its blank has been as generous as a womb every time 

for now, with my fists clenched—

i breathe 

"Hope" is the thing with feathers

"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me. 


-Emily Dickinson

morning

hot water
slides down
my system

it's sweet sweet

and the first thing
i need

disgust

the tissue paper

patched with tears and  mucus
dies up
before the electric heater

i've run short of tissues
-so reuse to reduce

Ms Dolly Douglas

Today,
I remember looking up from
the History of the English Language
and wondering
if that pink lipstick
ever got smudged,
if the end of that sari
nestling on your nape
was ever let down
to reveal
a cleavage
if that fragile figure
had any strength
at all
and if those
large pools of eyes
ever became more
than just shifts
over faces
in the classroom.

The memory is intact

You were on the pyre-
rivers and mountains
away from home,
just like ajee had been.

They forgot her name
when they put her on the pyre.

Today,
I only remember
your blue silk sari.