Saptarshi Dutt, Poetry 2021 Shortlist

Taste

I imagine a gutted fish,
silvery skin gleaming, emptied of itself.
Hands in the sink, metal teeth
raking scales, water running from the tap.
Spine embedded in pale flesh,
translucent fins limp on the cutting board.
Slice ginger, shallots, and chillies;
make cuts on both sides of the carcass.
Drizzle rice wine and soy sauce;
place the whole fish into an enamel dish
and lower onto a metal trivet
perched over boiling water in the wok.
Put the lid on. Set the timer for
twelve slow minutes. The fish is ready
when its eyes turn a blind white.
Each steaming mouthful is salty and sweet.
I am careful to spit out the bones.

Poetry 2016 Featured Saptarshi Dutt

My Heart

I buried everything you gave me
In the orchard.
Then I let the silence
Come on like a good drug.
Already, the gunships loom.
Now the swallows
Come to me in sleep. And a boy
Whispers of Saint Francis and the wolf
He broke. In the sanitarium, some Christian brothers
Come offering solace.
But my heart is the smallest
Catafalque. Always,
I was such a strange sort of
Princess. Hiding in the horseweed with my crosses,
Yellow-haired and feral in the woods.
Now, neither birds nor the sea can save me.

Set me in the field and let the stars
Have their way.

Poetry 2015 Shortlist, Saptarshi Dutt

dear destroyer

i wanted to write a poem,
remind you

that there was once 

a young girl
whose whole world sat
in the nicotine-stained
palms of your hands,

that i was the one
that placed my world
into your grasp-

it’s not your fault,
i did not ask

tell you that it’s okay,

that gods are sometimes
destroyers too
and even lords
have jobs to do

but even words are fickle
in my fingers;
clumsy meanings
can only get mixed up

feelings linger
in a place
that time and i
can’t seem to touch

there’s so much
i cannot say
and even if you were
the type to read poetry

you wouldn’t read mine
anyway

and maybe i should ask
why i’m persistently pretending
i can write a poem about you
with a happy ending

Poetry 2014 Longlist, Saptarshi Dutt

Expression of Soul

Disappeared,

as if a dark cloud decayed the body in a matter of seconds

and disposed of it some-where unknown.  

Never did I see a single sign of being psychologically sick. 
Not one piece of evidence to prove his existence.
EVER!

Multiple memories of his wither away slowly. 
No discernment to his disappearance. 
Very vague memories of him, perhaps he was an illusion. 
Maybe, just maybe my imagination had gone too far with my mind.

No! His disappearance was real; but due to his irrelevance, and exodus he was forgotten in the conscious mind of mine.
Maybe it is time that I finally forget about all his haunting memories
And make myself pious.  

Gone he is, and gone he will be. 
So the acknowledgment of his existence is altogether irrelevant. 
He is now, and forever has and will be non-existent

Poetry 2013 Shortlist, Saptarshi Dutt

Nocturnal

This isn't real ,
It can't be,
A vagrant spirit,
Creeping with echoes,
Shadowed,

Asphyxiation
Strangulated as hernia,
Causes pain,
Risking death,
Shallow ground,

Drip drop,
Walls are melting,
Smells dank,
Hanging in the atmosphere,
Encasing frightened ears,

Being aware,
For whilst asleep,
Can you weep,
Hate the dark,
He keeps me sleeping,

Dawn shatters night's illusion,
Tension released after sleep,
In joy you awake,
Night creature released,
Cobwebs washed away!

Poetry 2012 Featured Writer, Saptarshi Dutt

Immortal Touch

Loves skin
paper-thin
like porcelain
deep rising eyes
draped in sadness

An immortal touch
a caress through
a dream
insisting upon
my love

Drawing in near
conceived of dust
illusions of the unreal
a blur in the
vacant night