Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
Coimbatore
Tired droves of people descend upon roads
from city buses, thinning out through streets
A bespectacled father who aches for his seven-year-old son
The smell of the first flush of youth in another’s onyx eyes
The tilt of her head traps the bus-driver’s whistle
The letch’s hands move and dream vacant squiggles;
Coal-fires, wood-fires scent the evening streets
like incense. To the manacled forests of the government
college, escape those seeking repose.
O the homes are deep and near in time, the day is past,
the body is worn, the thigh baulks at its own weight
Temple bells etch the unruly stem of evening,
whose roots fumble in the dark, mark the arrival of gods
The home is but a maze of faces, eyes and teeth
and words that fall off tables, find their own feet,
and, dancing, make the glowing fire
that lets night pass…