Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
I could not distinguish myself
From the loss of your sharpened body
The gaudiness of the first cut
And then the smooth inlet
The sleek rhyme of blood over the cap of skin
And the flesh of the eyelids,
Your neck smudged to one dash.
You knew what the faint sigh of the breeze foretold,
Didn’t you?
It was a poem of the earliest world
Ivory uproarious bridges
Over the thin speech of children in winter.
The body cannot foretell the end of its lyric
Though the earth moves it so,
To end itself in violent speech
And amongst shells of glass and rain.
The pages of the body
Are thick and soaked in fire,
One leaf follows the other
In blind fashion
Eastward to the broken saints
And the gods
Whose single virtue
Was inertia.