Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
At Lappeenranta
You never know what glass is until
you feel it broken in your dreams.
A woman turns into water
the sand glistens and dissolves
in her face:
it’s a mirror too full of the sky,
an apology to the frozen ships
that hold nothing but the forest
of your belief.
I bury my face in Scandinavia
you hook yourself to my tongue,
your lips stay unlit till
my epitaph comes alive.
I know you by my name
and arrive at the equation of flower and fire.
You offer the secret portrait of water
in gas lights that free themselves of any history
the explanation of geraniums isn’t enough
for the moan of coffee behind silent glass
and empty chairs. Their message is larger
than destiny. The un-peopled boats
try to float on the surface but the lights beneath
disturb their gravity. People toss and turn in deep sleep
not knowing if they are at the edge of a possibility.
The waking up is a sweet trap.
It’s water which weeps in St. Petersburg
disturbing the philosophy of a giant black
steam engine.
Faces take turn between the skies to exchange sleep
deep like the unexplained taste of truth
washed off in the morning by angels.
Outside. Vapour. The empty box
in the heart, a vast vast empire
of water. Me. You.
A trail of ancient alphabets–
their routes in the water
is what is left of us.