Poems | Salil Chaturvedi

Photo : LeeLa

Udaipur, October 2016

The moist edge of the city

black scum

from the five-star hotel

brings in nutrients

into tall reeds   thorny acacia bushes     date palms    

spot-billed ducks   crakes     snipes     and stilts

the hills in the distance

        dry scrub

egrets flash whitely amongst the red algal bloom

 a family of whistling ducks winds its way through

    the water hyacinth

a purple heron loiters in the shadows

of a dying tree

Permission

On Divar island

rain water

in the plastic

pouch over the lock

that seals the premises

blades of grass

lean their heads

through the metallic gate

two bumblebees

curve into the courtyard

a platoon of ants

explores the cracks

in the driveway’s moss mosaic

a red spider

pulls gossamer

from the gate 

to a monsoon shrub

a grey-blue butterfly

closes and opens its wings

on the edge of the board

that promises 

dire consequences

to those who enter

without permission

Shaalmali

ISIS has begun killing

disabled children

with lethal injections

The barbets

have been screaming

all morning

There are new leaves

on the Shaalmali

Hey, She’s Awake

Friday night, the naked lady sits in my apartment

Thick grasses around her pudendum

Dark weeds in her armpits

Lizards in her hair

I’m hungry, she says

Slapping her stomach

Caked with what looks like dried blood

I can hear the hungry rumble

For no reason I think of sinkholes

I notice the blood-dripping lions tattooed on her breasts

I’m hungry, she says

Haven’t eaten in a while

The last snack I had was when, in nineteen forty seven?

But now I really want to eat

I mean a full meal

And I don’t care what you give me

Cooked, uncooked, stir-fried or roasted

Sons or daughters

Husbands or wives

Brothers or sisters

I’ll have them all

Oh, I could easily eat an entire generation

Munch through the bones of your friends

Eat the muscles of your enemies

It’s all the same

It’s blood I like

Can’t wait to put my tongue through your eye 

sockets

Give up your body, give it to me

I run out of the apartment

Half-crazed into the night, shouting

Bharat Mata ki Jai

Bharat Mata ki Jai

Ascent of the Asclepias

          less than an hour's drive to the east

          and there it is:     milkweed!

        perennial hardy erect evergreen

          weedy plant of wastelands

            ruderals and roadsides

flower stem bark root!

           “mix the latex with camel's pellets

            to reduce swelling and joint pain;

         take one or two flowers with water to cure fever

         (but not during Chaitra or Vaisakh);

 mix the latex with sand

    and ingest to cure a snakebite;

          

     smoke the powder of dried leaves

in a chillum to cure asthma”

            and if you're lucky you'll find out

                 that silence doesn't mean quiet

           silence means being filled with the noise

of your own lavender self

hey listen,

the crickets have started singing the songs of our death

the spoonbills have arrived

do you ever get that nature-heart-stick-lollipop feeling?

they are using bulldozers to have a conversation with the rice fields

you don't really know a place till you've seen it in moonlight

inside the stunned oceans are echoing the sounds of terrifying liquid screams

if i could choose between fresh thoughts and fresh leaves i'd choose fresh leaves

take off your clothes and tell me about angels, goddesses

and other cosmic beings living inside you

the tv is on too loud