There is a sciatica running down a leg but I manage to live with it quite easily. I’m in Calcutta where I swore I never would liveand you’re in the other end of the country, so to speak You tell me you’re unpacking your life from boxes, I wish I could help somehow. In school we…
Broken
After I shake out my pockets, I come up with nothing But grains of sand And some tobacco dust From a cigarette smoked A multitude ago. All that which spun In the washing machine And landed here turned out to be other morose beings like myself. We were two sisters But Mother always said She…
The sea…
Dances, the breeze flowing, Waves crashing upon the shore Easing the hurt, breakers creasing The sound I’ve always loved. Water soothes, as do friends We knew as children, who Know life can be recreated In lives that are no more. I smile, the sudoku lies Undone. I have met My Mephistopheles And I have sold…
Going home.
After the last drop of chemo Has dripped through the IV The nurses flush the site Ice pack the swollen hand And remove all the evidence You look at me with those eyes. Silent, wide and expressive, “Can we go home now?” We cannot, the doctors Want you bound to this place To this bed…
Hands
After I fumble yet another conversation About the miseries of war That no one wants to be part of, I think of the world taking up arms, For whatever reason, Each and every one of them wrong. You wouldn’t have hesitated To shoot their chest-thumping down. But the world has changed, I’ve tried, Fear be…
33 years
Not all men are equal, some less than others. Some rant and rage, some pillage Spread aggression and hate Not caring of the spillage. Some are nice, some even mean well Some carry barbs in the words they say Yet some are benign, some upright And some are always on display. And then there’s you:…
never alone… how long is a piece of string?
if i said i do not care that you were a doctor, or a sweeper, would you forgive me? i imagine you stretched out and weeping over your broken body, watching, not able to look away from the man taking what was never his. if i tell you, you could have been a pauper or…
Last night’s moon
Cast a red eye As I watched From my corner Across the sky A glow, a flicker A game of hide-&-seek In my mind’s eye. Chasing clouds, Chasing rain, The same refrain Comes to mind… This is alas, The last outpost From the past Perhaps. As I retire From the solitary Confinement Of one mind’s…
Erasing Bodies
Ars Poetica* (after Kenyatta Rogers) All poetry ought to be torn and thrown, unless someone picks up the pieces, pastes them together with tape as if it means something to them. Like toilet paper dissolving in the pot, the scribbles on the wall scrubbed out when you were three. Life is a waiting room, we…
Dachau Concentration Camp
We destroy, we maim, we claim and kill what we cannot hold on to. We inter the bones, burn the bodies of dissident thoughts, place our fears in isolated camps and call it freedom. There is no comfort to be found And hope is in retreat. All that is, is politics and war, it’s insidious…
2025: pro familia
It’s another year rolling around, they tell me, get your act together write more, sound happy for a change, give up on those terrible habits, travel alone (if you must), but forget not the “responsibilities“. In court, stand strong, work hard, write that perfect affidavit, (is anything ever perfect?) be there. For the family. Be…
ipsita banerjee 