Poetry at Sangam

Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.

Rich Black

               To remember my love
               for the printing press

Rich black the printers/pressmen call it,
not the absence of color
but its indulgence
to lavish
4 inks for the pit, that hole
in the pupil of a captive
panther’s eye: black yes
of course but
cyan too, the postcard blue,
and magenta, that plangent
hint of blood, that sullen pink.
Then yellow last (and because
brightest, less) that stain of sun
or sunflower petal, just a touch of it,
a soft impression, fugitive
the way light plays on a surface.

Pressed together,
impressed, compressed
way past the common black
of a printed page,
pressed past paper
into the blotted eye of a squid,
the hundred shaded lids of night
the open-mouthed kiss
of the abyss.

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