Abhinav

​

the platform a mirage

of shadows on my way

to the funeral

 

pools of light drip

along the tiled earth, time

shifts sideways

 

rooms, roads, edges

of leaves— their vacancies 

have teeth

 

on the train window

I am a smudge of vague

against the landscape

 

*******

 

the bamboo digs in

the blade of our shoulders—

car horns eat our grief

 

cotton clouds, the breeze

folds the river over

a garbage heap

 

with rivered hands

my father offers his father

to the dying earth

 

sheets of wind— 

a drop of ghee glistening

on the pyre

​

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