Routine Poem by Raj Arumugam

This is my bed I creep into
defeated by this day. The brain ridden
with many folds turns heavy and wonders:
And is this the way it shall be, the routine
set for the rest of my days into an animal decline?
With a body imprisoned by trips in a car
and limbs rushed from one manhour to another?
and myself seized by the throat
with unyielding and angry alien faces
pressed into mine and sucking me dry?
Is this how it shall be with me?
Returning to a place of rest to stare into vacant air
till the hour I creep into bed after an evening
in the lounge, feeling heavy and perfecting the tummy circle.
Will this go on and on,
everything of me bound and imprisoned, wearied and numbed
and creeping into bed yet again...
This is my bed I creep into,
defeated by this day...






(from The Migrant - notes of a newcomer (February 1997- July 1998))