these thickset days
are fizzling down
quick, especially
in the night air
the eyes bespeak
atrocities, unspeakable
the sound of leaves
whizzing through the thick
morning air, leafing
pages in weighty scriptures
ambivalent answers to
disjointed questions, unasked
celluloid horror
of a twelve-year-old girl
lying spreadeagled, shrieking
you lie spreadeagled in
the Mumbai-Hyderabad overnight
Volvo sleeperette, re-living
what all are the horrors
in the suburban train
three living-dead humans
watching a twelve-year-old
dying of too much love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem