Your City
your city is a shrine to the deities
i drowned in the bathtub,
when maa went to the nearby temples,
seeking solace in sandalwood paste,
even when it failed to hide
the blood streaking her everywhere,
and she dared not cross the threshold
which screamed that she was unholy,
for the river which flowed inside her womb
was where heroes drowned
in the treacherous currents
out of which they are born.
.
your city is a suicide note to tragedy;
departed souls come back to tell you
that seeking love in your city
is treason against the pagan goddess
who feeds on your misery
and seethes in anger as you find
that you can create flames
as you run serrated wisps of grass
along your tongue, lips, eyelids.
you were a Phoenix in my unwritten ballads,
but you chose to make the ash your home forever.
.
your city sits under my eyelids
like a nightmare which refuses to leave,
a frightening dream scared of the reality
which threatens to consume it.
your city runs away from me,
forgetting that i am the immigrant
it seeks to get rid of,
it is a refugee hiding in my bedsheets,
spilling out its corrupt secrets,
making room for bullet holes in its chest pocket.
.
//your city has no tomorrow and it refuses to dwell in the past/
Copyright © Ritobrita Mukherjee | Year Posted 2020
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