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Three poems.

By SANJEEV SETHI.

BATTLE

I am in my stoop, of three pots and some propositions.
Squirting pipes create patterns on the lilac parapet,
patterns more complex than my composure. Muted earworms
from the abutting lancet expose my lacunae to me.

I run from myself, winded I return, debunking the illusion:
escape is an easy way out. On their own my errors seem
to go away. The breeze whittles cues of camaraderie.
The stoplight blushes in shades of sienna.

AFTERLIGHT

In the crisscross of my early days your absence
announced its presence. Without your bearing
my street was bereft of the sediments of solicitude.

In hush of the gloaming hours when I wish to be myself
and cannot, I cry. This sob is another sort. Skin ruddles
when my salve is another’s snack.

THREAD

Spoor of your silence reaches my cove
urging me to hear your hymn. Conjoined
by the conception of pain, our scales are similar.
Lies that light up your stairwell are my untruths as well.

The curse of cover is a habitual offender, playing footsie
with such finesse one has little choice but to relent.
Jigsaw puzzles are used as rails to energize our rallies.
Partners in another birth we will perdure.


The author of two well-received books of poetry, Suddenly For Someone (Atma Ram & Sons, Delhi 1988) and Nine Summers Later (Har-Anand, New Delhi 1997), Sanjeev Sethi is a media person who at different phases of his career has written for various newspapers, magazines and journals and produced radio and television programs. His poetry has appeared in The London Magazine, Poetry Australia, 3 Quarks Daily, Indian Literature, Journal of the Poetry Society (India), The Indian P.E.N., Literature Alive, journal of the British Council (India), Delhi Gymkhana Club Ltd Centenary Souvenir, The Hindustan Times, The Hindu, and elsewhere. He lives in Mumbai.

Note: Edited subsequent to publication to correct a transcription error. 23 January 2015.

One Comment

  1. Good to see the art of alliteration is not dead. “sediments of solicitude” is classic, matched only by “Skin ruddles when my salve is another’s snack.” Great stuff!

    Wednesday, 4 March 2015 at 03:35 | Permalink

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