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Poem from a Stolypin Car

·222 words·2 mins·
Writings Poems
Author
Neel Chakraborty

When you were seventeen I first laid eyes on you
The ruffled air of Bengal autumn carried your name to me
Your hair was dark and your voice was a late spring melody
And then I mastered the art of ambient disappearance till you were twenty five\

When I was twenty-four, I took a hairpin bend back to you
Our embroidered murals, took to dancing, as the footfall of our shadows sang an out of shape tune
And then I found us asleep in each other’s arms, waiting for my disappearance like the morning moon
Your eyes were glacial and your promises all rang true

As we sleep amidst the cacophony of the light spring rain
I can feel the potpourri of poems, clicking away in my gurgling brain
And I’m writing in buses, trains, trams and Stolypin cars
And for a forgiving second I tend to forget that I’m a mausoleum of scars
Agents of disappearance arrive,they gnaw away away at my blurry monsoon eyes
They’ll have to tear me to pieces, alright, as I slowly lose my sight
I’ll remember your brilliant smile hiding away from the gold of a dying sun
I’ll cradle your voice,hiding them in between Mozart and Bach fugues
And I’ll call you home, amidst all the violence and gore
Will you call me home, too?

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