no gates only a carpet of shattered roof-tiles

a banana leaf kabaddi-kabaddi-ing

the ozymandian verandah pillar-stumps

the bananas in their shade like several severed heaps

of curled baby hands curled over their deep-pink

mother-flower not yet opened again—

                                               the well has a skirt of mud—

no one dare peek a water-pulling peek now—

& on its hem a buzzed hibiscus

for a moment a black bee turns a white petal black

a red ant squashed on a black stick on a white hand-wall

what does that pink-shirted boy hold in his hands that

he drops rhythmically into the stream? i want to know

i want him to reveal his secrets to me

some chillum-chill shiva-stotram wafting in from nearby temple

i want him

clouds gather—

a prayer or a shroud?

& an urge to jump into the demolished house

to marry my emptiness with its—

                                                      be broken together

but i don't jump i'm afraid i'll live

i can't stay i can't jump i dangle

clouds still gather bridal bangle

the waft continues— om sarve bhavantu sukinah

sarve santu niramayah—     it starts raining

it always does it is nice when that happens

nice enough to stay a moment more in this jump

~ ajay

21/4/2021