Tonight, at your hideous best,
You’re the colour of my surrogate sky,
Stealing me from yourself;
For when I woke up in the Teesta with blasphemy on my face,
Every divinity ever sought after
Was fish-feed.
That there is my mortal muse,
Staring over the edge of the table, with a bent wick,
Cornered by the debris, cursing you
In mock silence, of course,
Amid a rustle of snarls for their sorry faces that patrol the wall
As light evaporates in disgust
From a city we’ve never been to.
Tonight, at your hideous best,
You’re the ruin of my ramshackle chessboard,
In cahoots with candles being passed off as pieces;
For while they’re being put out, one after the other,
Need you watch your moves,
And I my step?
Books, alas, hardly have spines of their own;
Too late am I to discover, then, or too young to savour
The scariest anomaly of the climax; your savagery
That seldom looks me in the eye?
Fired by your intent, as dreams shrink and subtleties distend
I shall be spelt, spent and spilt in heartthrobs;
Are you my voice, then, or am I yours?
Tonight, at your hideous best,
You’re the sediment of fire,
Feasting on the heresy of my forbidden window;
For an unsolicited frenzy swindles itself around your dark corners
And I slit my tongue on the wet wilderness
Guarding your venom.
You’re the colour of my surrogate sky,
Stealing me from yourself;
For when I woke up in the Teesta with blasphemy on my face,
Every divinity ever sought after
Was fish-feed.
That there is my mortal muse,
Staring over the edge of the table, with a bent wick,
Cornered by the debris, cursing you
In mock silence, of course,
Amid a rustle of snarls for their sorry faces that patrol the wall
As light evaporates in disgust
From a city we’ve never been to.
Tonight, at your hideous best,
You’re the ruin of my ramshackle chessboard,
In cahoots with candles being passed off as pieces;
For while they’re being put out, one after the other,
Need you watch your moves,
And I my step?
Books, alas, hardly have spines of their own;
Too late am I to discover, then, or too young to savour
The scariest anomaly of the climax; your savagery
That seldom looks me in the eye?
Fired by your intent, as dreams shrink and subtleties distend
I shall be spelt, spent and spilt in heartthrobs;
Are you my voice, then, or am I yours?
Tonight, at your hideous best,
You’re the sediment of fire,
Feasting on the heresy of my forbidden window;
For an unsolicited frenzy swindles itself around your dark corners
And I slit my tongue on the wet wilderness
Guarding your venom.