saranyan bee


Funeral In The Railway Station - Poem by saranyan bee

i reach the station
i learn I'v missed the train
i cry that i miss
i cry I miss the funeral

they wait for me
laid in a box
which fogs over
and opaques
and they cut the power
fear they have cut for long
look at the clock
their wrist watches
and each other's time
and they curse
and switch on the box and wait.

no trains
only stations
lengths of stations
no trains

the fruit vendor
at the spittoon pillar
prunes bunches of bananas
black ones from the bright
the yellow face at the tea stall
shines jars displaying wares
crochets and rolls and chocolate bars
and pepper gray policeman
brushes teeth with a banyan twig
as if digging a trench,
chats with yellow face
the woman who sits on her metal-box
corrects the flow of her saree
admires with a cherry face
the enormity of her boobs
children play around her
catch me if you can

station-master's cap is emblematic
walks to his post in objectivity
all passengers look in the direction
where from the train arrives
i look at this guys face
and where the train goes

like this I miss the train,
I promise this is the reason
I am not at the funeral
and then i cry
and wait
and they wait for me,
then they sigh and take her
where they lay her in the bogie
and send her in
and turn their face away as
she is ablaze and smoke,
prayers are said
mourners spread
and curse
the son didn't attend

and I to the bar
my tears do not clean my soul
and i curse the bartender
who is lazy and delayed my drink.


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Poem Submitted: Friday, June 1, 2012

Poem Edited: Friday, June 1, 2012


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