Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Jeena Mary Chacko writes

The Other

I am afraid of these hallucinations
the yarns, gurgles and names you drown--
sometimes let slip between chews of toast.
Alas, your mouth is clever, it swallows what slithered out
revised replies squeezed out through teeth--
concealed by gulps of coffee and dismissive laughs.
I can see them on the sea-floor
the water is too clear.

I search for her anti-matter
Under your tongue, nails and answers
her intersections and backdrops you scaled
where have you hidden her?

I am capable of such self-torture
holding her picture, zoomed
pixelated, extreme close up
in a coiling rope of curiosity
no greater hell than comparison
her folds and crevices and mine
did you notice that mole?
picturing two tangling,
unraveling silhouettes.
familiar touch on an alien skin

I am worried that I will never find out
just betraying signs of distraction
a touch too brief, a reply too elusive
a truth too decisive.

No, don’t muddy the water
let it remain borderline
let me remain too
in the end, everything turns to poems
to dust, rust and oblivion.

(From the anthology ' A Strange Place Other than Earlobes' by five Indian poets. Jeena Mary Chacko - mikimbizii@gmail.com)

1 comment:

  1. For an acute poet, the suspicion of unfaithfulness is far more delicious a psychological state to explore than the actual discovery of unfaithfulness.


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