Wednesday 25 October 2023

Poetry 2023 Longlist, Preetha Vasan



Darkness of the unfurling words

Welled like burning tar

Within me.

If only I could spit it all out

Into words, black and blood-curling.

If only  beads of sweat,

Could turn into inky words

Soaked in too much brine,

Speaking truths sour and unpalatable.


Darkness of the unfurling words,

Fluttered like my mother’s sari

Casually thrown on shoulders, slender,

Which she shrugged callously

Before walking away

 Just when darkness

Began to seep through my eyes

Turning its white, black,

Staining tears that dared not come.


Darkness of the clammy night,

Brought him to my bed.

In the burning blackness of his grip,

I wished the words would unfurl into screams

That choked my throat like his flesh did

Night after nightmarish night.


I wonder now,

As I did then,

If I’m just that- 

Another callous sari?

Maybe because I was a child,

She thought I was lying.

Maybe because I was a boy

She thought I would be safe.


But today after his rituals,

The ones I refused to perform

She looked at me with

Tar-black eyes

And made light of my unfurling darkness

That is yet to find the light of day.

No comments:

Post a Comment