Poetry at Sangam




Kaga sab tan khaiyo
chun chun khaiyo maas
Do naina mat khaiyo
mohe piya milan ki aas.

Yes, let the crow eat me whole, peck out
the finest bits. Everything
except my eyes. I will need them
to witness your love, my love.

I will not remind you of my parents:
my wild mother and my sad
slouching father. I will not tell you about
my teacher who slapped me and made me sleep
in the rain and worshipped me too. I will not tell
you about Sayeeda who swayed away.
I will not tell you about those nights either. Those nights
as agile as fishes in air.

I will clutch winds and feathers. A twitching shape
calling out unsure names. Like songs
thrown in and fastened
by verbs, I will pull a semicircle
of muscle toward me.

Go away. I have nothing,
nothing to confess. .

See the not-quite born sons,
the groaning daughters. They have
their own walls. I stand subtracted
from fire and walk between trees.
Twenty years, thirty, twenty more
soar until all I can think of is you.

Sayeeda, where are you?