Three Poems
From L to R: Naveen Kishore. Venice. Night. Light. 2023. Image courtesy the artist; Naveen Kishore. Venice. Nocturnes. 2023. Image courtesy the artist; Shravya Kag. self, 2020. Image courtesy the artist.
Self 1: Gemini
Sepulchral splicing. Yet
an icy consistency. And
this scorching smile.
Saudamini Deo. Postcard from a soft December afternoon, 2022. Image courtesy the artist.
Self 2: Salvation salad
The Word was made flesh.
I thank the Lord, God
for the precedent,
and feed
the Leaves of Grass
to this pig heart of mine.
Talha Bin Ehtasham. Midnight, 2020. Image courtesy the artist.
Leap
Your driving instructor has it figured out. No ifs or buts about it.
On the Whitefield road with cars packed bumper to bumper
and you inwardly cursing, he pronounces there is only one way
to do this. To learn how to drive: buy a car. Amid managing foot flexes
between pedals and manhandling the gear, you have only a second
to throw a dumbfounded glance and sputter in his direction before
the signal turns green and a barrage of honks assails your metal fort.
On a later weekday evening catching up with an ex-lover
over beer and smokes, and a neglected plate of chicken satay
in one of the many mellow-yellow lit, red-brick pubs of Bangalore,
performing good-humoured autopsy on respective
amorous adventures, recently failed; and appraising
the rigged road ahead, you pronounce there is only one way to do this:
love somebody by loving somebody. No ifs or buts about it. Love is a leap.
One has to be in the middle right from the beginning. Buy a car
to learn to drive it. Her laugh sputters as she pulls you in
for a drunken kiss, her new nose-pin twinkling on her face.
Leaning in, you are certain you have it figured out.
Carol D'Souza lives in Chennai. A collation of her work can be found at linktr.ee/cblaizd.
