Prabhakar Subramaniam Poems

Behind the high wall

Near the bus-stop
...

How do you translate

This word that in my language
...

Life is smooth

Waking or sleeping,
...

No kuyil softens

The sun's fierceness
...

I like to think they are glad to see me

Even if I know they cannot be
...

Like colourful protractors

Tens of rainbows
...

Finally, little there was that was left

After the past had been wept over
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We make it easy for death
There are all kinds
To be plucked at will
Female foetuses,
...

I was surprised
To see him dead, so soon
Knowing what they would say
I still asked them
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This is an invitation
I have to give you
For form's sake
It's your niece's wedding
...