7/11/23

New | Poetry | Carol D'Souza

Edvard Munch, Christmas in Brothel



Silences

 

On this evening out, all the elephants in the

room are on my shirt (the one from Kochi).

The principal character in the documentary

we catch insists it's not loneliness that ails

him, and quotes Sahir for good measure:

ये दुनिया अगर मिल भी जाए तो क्या है?

The mild hives of silences that break out

between us over the course of the evening,

thrive through the courses of sushi, bao and

baklava. And upon return, when we are invited

to join for a midnight cup of tea, you do, I do not.



Lost in translation

 

Buffeted by waves of Malayalam

Background music of late youth

Its whorls and whirls 

unsympathetic and seductive

You one beat out of step

in this jostling milieu

of sea of brethren

Rush of sound, salt of expression

An endless beat till somebody

kindly, belatedly

tugs you into the flow

flinging some English rope



Empathy

 

Empathy visits me.

Solid ground on which,

just yesterday, I had stood and flayed

a lover alive, as it were, starts shaking,

and then falls out from under me entirely.

It's a matter of shoes, she says calmly;

with unflappable poise despite my flailing.

Every time you feel the fever of certainty

rising: change into someone else's shoes.

It's an inconvenient regimen, she

knows. But wouldn't I rather walk

an uncertain, middle ground in pinching shoes

than mournfully hang later from grim what ifs?



Women texting men they like

 

One feeling forward

Two thoughts back

To cushion

or not to cushion

is never the question

Reaction bridling reflex,

well flexed

In the mild mannered

in the not so mild

Most permutations,

almost same equation

 

How to occupy space?

To not fall over oneself

in such haste

and recede, cede,

accommodate

Habitually, willingly,

indulgently, resignedly

All of which amounts

to, yes, the same thing,

more or less, in essence

Taking up less space

LESS SPACE



As if words could not also be fists

with title from The Friend by Sigrid Nunez

 

Every three months, or so

You orbit back to me

 

Bile from the aftermath of the last —

yet another — goodbye,

I regurgitate and spit this time,

barely waiting for pleasantries

 

These interspersed goodbyes

several now

Each lacerating

Generate a heavy headwind

of recriminations

to cleave through

 

In a light tone

coasting over

what must have been

difficult days, weeks, months

You catch me up

on the highlights

Life in index cards

 

Time and again,

in your wake I'm left

pared to my poverties

Arguments winded

Certainties tottering

Heart doubled over

 

On elbows and knees


 


***

Carol D'Souza lives in Chennai. 



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