Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
Forty seers could not have seen this maun(d)
west-fast of silence pulling acorns, sprouting
out of damp California earth in the last softness,
late spring pollen spilling fine
as moss of myth
The astrologer said I was a manglik
afflicted by the red planet
in baleful ways,
you reminded me
how you ignored him because
you were so magnanimous
And now suffering.
daily I pack
& unpack cities, birth pangs, besieged
beaches with black sand (g)litter
cheek by foul with plastic
singles fishing out self
how deceptive the give
of sand, closing ranks
upon absence, native land
a chimera, razed and erased
cyber scribes scrubbing it down
like a crime scene. The case gone
cold, no matches left
in a box of names.
close the lid
gently as you would a coffin
crack open the tin of a new
dawn, shiny pennies roll
on & on
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