Where that gulmohar tree bends over the lake, the neighbourhood
Died in the mouth of a child as she swallowed the water draining
Into her body- drowning- sudden like a quake but its slow-sinking
Remained in the landscape and suddenly one day the neighbourhood
Had died and as every monsoon someone was ringing bells for suicide day
But this year the rains weren’t wet and by then the bougainvillea lawn
Had dried over the dead of Jamuna’s rusted leg still embedded in her shoe
The cracking tunes in the subway underground enclosed Amba; she became
A ring in the eclipse, like a drop of gold in the river, defying sieves
But the day the neighbourhood started dying was
When Antara changed the dress in her body.
She put on her orange skirt that the sun had slept in
Pulled up her red stockings up to the heart and
Draped a long black scarf around her stemmed neck
She walked out of the fire with its colours and
Flung her fire at the frigid neighbourhood
That day was the local suicide day and the Aagneys were there
Smelling death that had dressed up like a woman
That day the men by the road in their usual card game
All went silent at the same time and turned around
To look at their other image etched in water
In the landscape where
The yellowed trees bulged with centuries of women’s sweat
And it rained the drowned child’s tears on the thatched roofs
Women licking their fingers stepped out of kitchen windows
The dry flesh from her colored lips flew into the wind
And landed on the old landlady’s plate just as she
Scooped a spoonful of meat for her grand daughter
The poor child didn’t whimper like the last time she saw
Her mother burn in the window; she picked up the flesh and dressed
Her buried bones; then death was already walking out of match boxes
A cat crouching stealthily in the backyard over broken eggs
Wailed and emerged into her purring while
The dressed woman- naked- was walking the neighbourhood
In strides of burning sounds that left her once asphyxiated larynx
Author Bio:
Mohineet Kaur Boparai (b. 1985) has published three books of poetry, Poems That Never Were(2007), Windows to the Ocean(2012) and Lives of My Love(2012). Her poetry also features in the anthology "Dance of the Peacock", amongst the finest Indian poets. She is teaching English at the Panjab University Constituent College, Nihalsinghwala. She is 27 and lives at Moga, India. Blog/ Website: http://sipping-sunshine.blogspot.in/
Died in the mouth of a child as she swallowed the water draining
Into her body- drowning- sudden like a quake but its slow-sinking
Remained in the landscape and suddenly one day the neighbourhood
Had died and as every monsoon someone was ringing bells for suicide day
But this year the rains weren’t wet and by then the bougainvillea lawn
Had dried over the dead of Jamuna’s rusted leg still embedded in her shoe
The cracking tunes in the subway underground enclosed Amba; she became
A ring in the eclipse, like a drop of gold in the river, defying sieves
But the day the neighbourhood started dying was
When Antara changed the dress in her body.
She put on her orange skirt that the sun had slept in
Pulled up her red stockings up to the heart and
Draped a long black scarf around her stemmed neck
She walked out of the fire with its colours and
Flung her fire at the frigid neighbourhood
That day was the local suicide day and the Aagneys were there
Smelling death that had dressed up like a woman
That day the men by the road in their usual card game
All went silent at the same time and turned around
To look at their other image etched in water
In the landscape where
The yellowed trees bulged with centuries of women’s sweat
And it rained the drowned child’s tears on the thatched roofs
Women licking their fingers stepped out of kitchen windows
The dry flesh from her colored lips flew into the wind
And landed on the old landlady’s plate just as she
Scooped a spoonful of meat for her grand daughter
The poor child didn’t whimper like the last time she saw
Her mother burn in the window; she picked up the flesh and dressed
Her buried bones; then death was already walking out of match boxes
A cat crouching stealthily in the backyard over broken eggs
Wailed and emerged into her purring while
The dressed woman- naked- was walking the neighbourhood
In strides of burning sounds that left her once asphyxiated larynx
Author Bio:
Mohineet Kaur Boparai (b. 1985) has published three books of poetry, Poems That Never Were(2007), Windows to the Ocean(2012) and Lives of My Love(2012). Her poetry also features in the anthology "Dance of the Peacock", amongst the finest Indian poets. She is teaching English at the Panjab University Constituent College, Nihalsinghwala. She is 27 and lives at Moga, India. Blog/ Website: http://sipping-sunshine.blogspot.in/
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