But suddenly my world is not small enough - its
tranquil borders are invaded by a Phytosanitary
certificate with Regulatory Instructions, just like
Torquemada’s witch hunts with sullen discipline
To keep the nation safe against alien pestilence
carried in seeds to be disseminated; desperately
I google every term but lack of progress without
inspiration to illuminate my work dissolves any
Resolve, it’s dead-pan boring, I seek relief and
protection in myriads of pink scarves, whenever
I see pink I buy one - I’ll be so ashamed on the
day I die, my kids will be shocked on seeing the
Proliferation of scarves in my life, at least my un-
necessary fluffy blankets can be used to build a
tower on my bed so I can read with ease - but
what to do with so many pink scarves - I wear
Them in two’s and three’s, glittery ones on top,
safe from the grey Decrees & Annexures, the
the dreaded non-being of dark non-existence
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem