Some Fallen-Leaves Regarding Longevity - 7 Poem by murari sinha

under the table-glass
i unfold the life-chronicle of one lakh year

and in the olive-cabinet
all the applications for living

from the monsoon-noon to the winter-afternoon
the lines you draw on the parchment

none of them is so condensed
as to touch the palms of a sailor

from the numerable timber-joists
come down the swarms of personal white ants

no spring seems to become corporeal
without the spell of misunderstandings

so of late
besides the dry statistics
with the cough
comes out grey thermometer

prickly-heats spread over the whole body

the sticks of young antenna
shake off their wings

behind the bath-scene
lies the succulent hailstorm