deepundergroundpoetry.com
Possession (read comments)
I have you
where you do not want to be.
What can I hope to keep
with my body
that would not stay for my mind.
Chronicles of sepia and grainy
black and white.
Stowed away in my closet
Under shameful panties
too big bras.
Lies a time that did not know puberty
The texture of breasts no more
than soft white fluid
air in a balloon
deflate.
I could show you this.
Crossroads jammed
with yellow buses.
Street hawkers selling me lunch.
A small structure rises suddenly
you would miss it.
If it weren't for that man
whose bust holds claim over four feet of space.
I fell here. Legs splayed. Skirt in the air.
Surrounded by stunned parents
not knowing whether to laugh or hold.
Only eleven, and so much information on my head.
Home. That sad faced room.
There you do not need meaning for neglect
The simple image would do.
This is the word coloring my walls.
Storehouses in a back alley motel,
Hold fewer secrets and strangers.
This I drag through lands.
Here I lived. And here. And here.
Somewhere I learnt desire and guilt.
Prayer and forgiveness. Soothing love of yours.
I have never known happiness since
not tainted with secrecy.
Somewhere a pasture.
Blindfolded I traveled in misted land
And returned to never be the same again.
Somewhere I was forced
Breasts extracted from my sallow chest
And a dead man no different
from maggots feasting on rats.
Separation no different from freedom.
To remember it carries always a price.
I have never known happiness since.
Here.
Why salvage that which only anticipates
its doom.
- Pranoo Deshraju
where you do not want to be.
What can I hope to keep
with my body
that would not stay for my mind.
Chronicles of sepia and grainy
black and white.
Stowed away in my closet
Under shameful panties
too big bras.
Lies a time that did not know puberty
The texture of breasts no more
than soft white fluid
air in a balloon
deflate.
I could show you this.
Crossroads jammed
with yellow buses.
Street hawkers selling me lunch.
A small structure rises suddenly
you would miss it.
If it weren't for that man
whose bust holds claim over four feet of space.
I fell here. Legs splayed. Skirt in the air.
Surrounded by stunned parents
not knowing whether to laugh or hold.
Only eleven, and so much information on my head.
Home. That sad faced room.
There you do not need meaning for neglect
The simple image would do.
This is the word coloring my walls.
Storehouses in a back alley motel,
Hold fewer secrets and strangers.
This I drag through lands.
Here I lived. And here. And here.
Somewhere I learnt desire and guilt.
Prayer and forgiveness. Soothing love of yours.
I have never known happiness since
not tainted with secrecy.
Somewhere a pasture.
Blindfolded I traveled in misted land
And returned to never be the same again.
Somewhere I was forced
Breasts extracted from my sallow chest
And a dead man no different
from maggots feasting on rats.
Separation no different from freedom.
To remember it carries always a price.
I have never known happiness since.
Here.
Why salvage that which only anticipates
its doom.
- Pranoo Deshraju
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