Ahila Sambamoorthy


SEVERANCE

The corpse-cold slice of moon
midnight drizzle patterning the earth
stars quiz like eyes in reverie on the lampless uphill path
where two waifs join hands
wandering like ghosts consumed with the rhymes of love
in that formless fear
the despair of severance was not mine alone

The lesson has to be learnt
between dusk and morning
when dewdrops form



SEASHORE

the earth stops shuddering
the prattle of wind and frogs and crickets resumes
a torrid inflated night
fetid with saltwater and palmtrees and fishingnets

an opaque miasma
where all directions dematerialize
and time is measured by counterfeit miles

Sleep couldn't be further away


GRANDMOTHER

When the evening star appears
and the oil-lamp is fed with ghee
my grandmother offers silver plates of betel leaves
and arecanut
to the white-tusked God

Wrapt in hypnotic spirals of rose incense
chanting esotericism
from a cloth-bound Bhagavad Gita

I can hear her thick golden bangles
jingling to the rhythm of the mantras

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