Revolt

Poetry


This time when I revolt
Your blood will not rise.

You will redeem yourself,
Extricate your little gifts
Like ticks from my flesh.

This time when I invite you in
You'll smile widely-
And sit down to eat in all conviviality,

The food proferred will slide down your throat,
Like pickled herring,
A practiced thing,
What poise!

And yes, the bones will crackle.

The cereal will serially allude to its advertisement
Snap, crackle, popping the morning awake-
Colluding in saliva like the night before,
For me, still in front of you,
But really for Salvatore-
Absent certainly, but you can't write him off!

These unknownable names rear up in my head
Like suspicion,
And flesh out an accusation
For me to use,
To abuse,
To lose,to look bad.

But when I flood the bund,
I want to drown out all trace
But that's just ambition.

My sap will be rising, again,
Full of life at the death of our love,
Seeping out like tears,
Hopeful still,
Refusing to register the change
Reacting like a habit,
Pulsing for my lost corner,
My truncated love,
My coveted touch,
My elusive fears,
My tomorrows.

I will have to romance the rubbish out of the door
That will make it near enough to a new beginning,
A fresh try in the sunlight
Just around the bend from the end.

I sigh as my manhood throbs
With a mind of its own
Pulsing true against the lies
Like a gallant.

So I let it go-
Remove this talk of love
Where it is not wanted.

Take off its stays & ties,
And float it on the breeze,

Who knows what it'll catch next.

Gautam Mukherjee
25th July 2009