Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
Two bags a shoulder,
slipping to the elbows, hands grazing
the edge of a scooter, eyes snaking
to the sidewalk, mind already
at a desk, writing away: this is how I
cross the road. Last year, a student died,
just here. I tip-toe on the zebra crossing
without looking at my feet. She could be anywhere,
and a scrap of her sari, anywhere.
Maybe below my foot,
is the line I keep cutting, in this poem I can’t write.
Years later, as I am flattening between vans again,
spinning lists of the days’ tasks with speed
that cancels cars’ noises, Eunice de Souza
is crossing the road. A bag slips off
my shoulder, into my elbow, Eunice
de Souza is peering into every car as she
crosses. I begin, Excuse me, are—
the you in Eunice stuck in my throat — just then her eyes
cut past me, pick up on a poem. On my road,
Eunice de Souza, having reached the sidewalk, is lifting her foot,
studying the underside of her chappal.