Two burners
and one learner
are still mastering the art
of the low and the high.
When a slow broth
spills as a whistle,
and a trained dough
detours from puffed to shrivel,
know that a woman
has mastered the part
of the show and the lie.
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On a yawning ground, a land is still on all fours
The gauze can heal no more, a drone cries 'ENCORE'
That land's plate is full too, but it's not the same as ours
We nibble on peace, and it chokes on wars
Like pencil shavings, prayers take the same shape and sound
They sharpen their faith, but then a missile comes around.
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My mother lives east of me, always right if one could map us.
Today, I moved towards her, adding places and time.
This is all I want now- a difference of minutes.
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Pickled pictures on a bottled wall
reach for Shares, served by all.
At first, you think this is the best-
yesterday tagging along with the rest.
Eaten in bytes, what could go wrong?
Rings choked, a blocked birthday song.
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'Ghatiya aadmi' pulls you down in Hindi
'Ghaleez insaan' lurks around in Urdu
God knows what rage flows in Angrezi
Good, better, best- languages flaunt a 'thu thu'.
Ghee laden words still are found for that man
Gulab, genda, rajnigandha leave homes and meaning'-
going in circles, they garland from 'has' to 'can'.
Guess what! Words were never manuals of cleaning.
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Like
a yawning necklace with a broken clasp
a fawning curtain with hem out of grasp
a weary air-conditioner wary of 24 and 18
a hairy armpit lazy to be filtered pristine
an ambitious door expanding its territory
an English summer behaving recklessly
an ink-stained finger in no hurry to be bare
an OTP supporting both Live and Expire
the undergarment told to stay back in line
the overconfident text typing itself as fine
the resting rosary posed to run a marathon
the testing simile as eager as a new coupon
this woman here also carries on
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My daughter has reached that stage
Where we can exchange shoes and age
Four feet don't walk the same as before
She stops behind words, I walk four more
My daughter has reached that stage
Where we can exchange clues and cage
Four eyes now look for a hidden door
She steps in a body, I set free Nobody in store
That stage has reached my daughter
Where I'm the audience, she~the performer
For years have taught well four ears
She slips into a lie, I rise up in cheers.
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If they have a point to paint,
you might be caught in a stroke,
and finally faint.
When you'll stir your eyes slow,
they will exclaim like a fork,
'Didn't I tell you so!'
So, you'll tell yourself so-
There's no point of a point in a point
if the date Rumi changes to Foucault!
-
June ended like
the last words of
a mathematical proof.
Equals and unequals
worked together to write-
Hence, proved.
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