Debts Poem by Ibohal Kshetrimayum

I owe so many.
And they've become overweight.
I can't carry them.
Whenever I returned home
In the dead of midnight,
The debt I owe my mother,
Who waited up without eating.
When I lay in drunken stupor at the wayside,
The obligation I owe the mongrel
Who licked away sweat from my flyblown face.
The due I owe the neighborhood
For not beating me black and blue
For the peeks I took as she bathed
When Memchoubi was a virgin.
And although I spent the night at Chandramukhi's,
The burden I owe my wife
When she pretended that she didn't know
Even as I lied.
The debt I owe my son
For simply yielding to my deceit
Because it wasn't enough for a bottle
When he longed for a toy train.
And when I returned
After a long spell
The debt I owe
The fields and pastures I'd forgotten
For telling me I've reached home.
How will I pay my debts to all
For loving me in excess?
Mulling over this, I'm also searching
For a deep-rooted tree
To crucify myself.