Treasure Island

Eila Mahima Jaipaul

(11/26/1971 / New York)

Oubliette: a descent to haze in 7 movements


Clear the surface
of grit
so a small page
could lie here with a pen

one might find
a little window
even if there were
no sky

mourning in and
morning out
I lower the black thighs
into the very mercury
of a hollow

the shape of wandering
becomes definite
a tendril of thought
reaching far off
so one has to lean back
to face it
in the small hours

a shadowed glint
waiting for rain
unclear about words
never getting the point
the empty ringing
of not understanding
like the strange emerging
shape of a leaf
with papery fringe
at the bud

one repeated note
of pale fine darkness
poured through a
thin rhythm
of diffusion

failings fan off
in all directions
leaving in the small
clear silence
a bell-note
high and tender as in dreams
I seem to see it
off by itself or
see the thought of it

bits of hours
pieces of thirst
of unchange
catch uncertain
above us
like threads of light
to pull us all out


If she stopped
she would fall right to sleep
dreaming of ink
to drink or stone
to soak it in oblivious
to the allegory's
glory which requires
this fever

As you gaze and gaze
at this dappling joy-show
these pretty things
become so solid
when we speak about them
that they lay unstirred
beyond the gloom

hardened air
on which a tired head
might strike and

Submitted: Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Edited: Tuesday, April 19, 2011
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