Before the Death Rattle

Once rice plants in golden frocks danced on my lap. And I was proud. Now the weeds dry my veins. Once reapers, bending like the sickles, lulled me with their bucolic songs. And I snoozed under the paddy fragrance. Now I wake up frightened by the ‘profit – talks’. Once the ecstatic moon rose above the rhythms of the night. Moonlight was so charming with some magnetic eyes. And I held my chest as a stage for your dancers and singers. Now your nostalgia is twined around me. Once the monsoon hid me deep under the water – fishes and frogs enjoyed their carnival. And I was tickled by the floating canoes. Now an architect stares at me. A tipper lorry vomits the sand and stones on my face. I die leaving a furrow in your mind. [First published in Off the Coast, US]