Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Delhi's Poem

Your streets enamelled ebon
go red and green
when life begins,
a merry-go-round
of moored matins graying
for grace, they vandalised your belly
raising brick buildings
on your brown skin,
stealing your vermilion to paint
the lips of a keep,
fireballs were fanned in your alleys
when frost blinded the
eyes of a masquerade
appeals fight for an answer
being smothered in signatures
and stuffed into sacks.

Today after ten years
my skirt has grown longer
when my bruises
healed with the hooch of heresy
I've seen your fight with time
and thank myself for
having read from your books.

First published in Writing Disorder published here and the First Prize Winner of the Wordweaver contest 2012.

1 comment:

Ghazala Hossain said...

This is disturbing but written beautifully: Stealing your vermilion to paint..!