Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
On a hot afternoon
when thoughts perspire
at the base of the spine,
I, in my air-conditioned car
dread the upheaval of arrival.
Stepping out will set off
heat waves and rustle and
smiles with the tensile
strength of wilted spinach.
Mother will dab at her welcome
with a cold towel
her words joining
grim dust on the table.
Around a curve I spotted it:
yellow as damp straw, near ochre –
a rat snake
slithering across the road
in generous sweeps
fleeting
as shadows of coconut fronds.
I can almost hear it:
p-wave, q-wave
rasping on the tar
as its eyes fix on the next patch of grass.
Why did the snake cross the road?
Before I can run it over
it survives
save road burns
on its underbelly
soft as a tentative touch.
Snake: a tunnel rats go down
never to return.
One-way ticket.
Maw.
An open word.
A bawling child.
Answers wait
in the parched afternoon.
Why did the snake cross the road?
I sit idling, tyres melding into feet,
feet growing roots, eyes into slits,
stillness seeping into bones
till I am saurean
and I smell with my tongue
time
churning on its axis.
Rain that was to arrive
chose to stop
elsewhere.
Why did the snake cross the road?