Treasure Island

Meena Kandasamy

(1984 - / Chennai / India)

Fire


Black satanic fumes
shroud the blank blue skies
in puffing jet black soot;
few flashy cameras record
glimpses of destruction
(for tomorrow's papers) ...

Our huts are burning—
Regular huts in proper rows.
Dry thatches (conspirators-in-crime)
feed the flames as we rush out
shrieking-crying-moaning
open mouthed hysterical curses
and as if in an answer—
when the blazing work is done
Fire engines arrive...

Deliberately late.
These feverish cries continue
in the same shrilly pitch
echo, echo, echo and
finally reach...

Up there.
Reverberate and sound as loud
as snail shells crackling under nailed boots
and perhaps as distinct and defenseless.
This double catastrophe projected in sights
and shrieks evokes...
No response.

Those above are (mostly) :
indifferent bastards.

Submitted: Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Edited: Wednesday, June 20, 2012

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  • Ravindran Govindaraju (9/11/2013 1:36:00 AM)

    Oh my! brings me a nostalgia of a past..a dharmapuri../ kizvenmani..or kizvenil..]
    Thanks for this poem, which brings me my ire.at height..
    Opened mouth curses .... why all is at fraught, never reaches those..? (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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