Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Binu Karunakaran writes

The Washerwoman

Fused to a corner of the washing stone, the
yellow soap cake looks a stamp-sized photo
of the sun. Sticky note affixed to a black pulpit,
aiding cats in their quick effortless climb,
walking-sermon over the wall’s elevated
fault lines & the light’s scattered fish bones.

The washerwoman arrives after the crack
of the dawn's dewy whip. Her load: a bucket
full of bleeding clothes, pack of detergent
and bottled blue prayers of wispy indigo.

An actor of great beauty, she rehearses her lines,
Switching with ease the roles of a gentle masseur
working lather out of soap & water and a thug-
fanatic clubbing her other to accustomed death.

 (From the anthology ' A Strange Place Other than Earlobes' by five Indian poets @litemeter)

1 comment:

  1. If one were to be a slyly punning poet, what better way than to describe a laundress; activities as rehearsing her lines? And then carrying through with that metaphor by delineating the various roles?


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