You throttle it
into permanent un-speak-ability
then you bury it
But first you zip up your pants
You do all that
automatically, though
not necessarily in slow motion
And, the thought may occur
to you at that precise moment
that everything is suddenly too slow
you hope
The zip doesn't jam up
After all how long did it take for you to come?
Then you walk out
of the place, but you don't thrust
your hands into your pockets nonchalantly
whistling a tune -
that only happens in cartoons
You walk briskly away
With a frown on your face
like you've forgotten something important
And now you are on your way back
to retrieve it
(First Published in The Little Magazine, India)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem