Faces Poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri

He drew faces
On the city's hoardings
His brush touched up
Their cheekbones to new heights
They cast nebulous shadows
On the wrinkled lower lip
His own eyes were
Large semicircular sunflowers
Waiting for their butterflies
That would emerge only
After the flowers wilted.

In the wee-hours of the city
He pictured Time, perfectly,
On the murky banks of the Hooghly
Waiting in the discarded jetties
of its deceased jute factories.

The faces were all there
Jutting out unnecessarily
Refusing to go away
Their cheekbones swelled
In their bony hardness.
Their eyes were fetid fish-pools
With a muddy sediment
Of decayed fish long since dead.
The faces were there, all of them
They occupied his space
There was no flesh in them,
but only bones.