for Karthik gone almost a year now,
so much for mythology
I live
beneath a rock under a rusted old half-
bridge beneath the only cloud on earth
that doesn't move unless a rare bird,
a big one, flies beneath it.
I would be magic.
The rare bird, large,
avoids any attachment to other than me.
Sh*ts on my head.
I make a cup of tea.
Listen to Bach (J.S) ,
Gould's, The Goldberg, ***
keep pointing to the radio
shaking my head muttering,
whistling between fragments.
I open the curtain at midnight and wait.
Lights of the big planes shine directly
in on me. Like that godd*mned bird,
they're in my flight path.
I am nervous.
But they don't fly over.
They don't sh*t on my head.
Still, I wait there till very early in the
morning, till just before sunrise.
Close call, I say.
I draw the curtain,
fall hard into bed covering my head
with a pillow, the gold multi-mirrored
pillowcase, a gift from the most beautiful
of lovers (both from India)
just in case.
*****
*The Griffin Prize, Canada's most generous poetry award,
founded by businessman and philanthropist Scott Griffin.
**The griffin, griffon, or gryphon (Greek: grýphōn, or grýpōn, early form, grýps; Latin: gryphus) is a legendary creature with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle. As the lion was traditionally considered the king of the beasts and the eagle was the king of the birds, the griffin was thought to be an especially powerful and majestic creature. The griffin was also thought of as king of the creatures. Griffins are known for guarding treasure and priceless possessions.
[from wikipedia]
***The Goldberg Variations. J.S. Bach. Performed by Glenn Gould:
Copy and paste: http: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=UGPJDgp2-9A&feature=related
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem