once it’s a bird
with clipped wings
at times it’s poised
for a flight to free
itself of the torment…
sometimes i see it
sitting on its haunches
at times finely poised
on its toes as a ballet dancer
it whirls and whirls
as the belly of a belly dancer
and smiles an infant’s
innocent smile…
i run frantically
as it sometimes
blows high arid winds
the times it bleeds
i see myself in its
damp dark sticky puddles
the nights
shape themselves into
several elusive patterns…
07may2008
14.05hrs
(a night poem written in stark scorching day light)
indira babbellapati