Layers of coloured cake
sandwiched with fruits; pineapple
stewed just right, kadju
in between the dark
chocolate like stars in a moonless night
sky. A myriad shades lining
the sides, icing drooling at the
candles in different hues
burning proudly at the top. You
blew them out one by one laughing
at the way they refused
to give up their light but rising
from the ashes like a phoenix.
You were embarrassed by their gesture
knowing that I knew you
took your love to town, peddling it
around on street corners, ‘variety is the spice
of life' someone said.
You couldn't be satisfied
with what you had, a multitude
was what you
needed to feel loved, wanted. Age
took over, highways ran across
your face crisscrossing, merging, mingling
in a rush to get to wherever. The
greys on your head peep
out from under the fading
bottle-black turning orange-brown
reminding you the days are numbered.
Pain wracks your
frail body, the diseases
have no cures, gifts from lovers that loved
you too much. There isn't enough
money to pay for meds, coloured pills
like the colours of your lust. We sit
inside the old rented house and stare
up at the fairy lights strung on
the walls. Another year over, how many
more candles will you live to see?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem