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| Anshu Choudhry |
The Charity
She came a begging, or so I thoughtHer wistful watch held me locked
Despite their wanting; and me of the giving
She dangled the little ape from over her arm
Throwing it towards me without regards for
Its limbs; its life; laments; lies; its anything
She then looked deep into my jumpy eyes
As deep as she could go there to find the guilt
That lay ashamed on the seat beside me, hiding, in the bag
She gripped the slit opening of the glass window
Her dark rough fingers dry, resistant against the shield
The lines on her palms firm and confident with hunger
She changed her look to an allegation
I dug, to seek my guilt and pass on to her for expiation
While the vigour of her stink, crushed my nerves, into garbage
She knew she was murdering me, with the poisons
of her disease; she showed no mercy, the fun writ in her
Two broken teeth, whistling the last dirge for my funeral
She smiled now with reparation as she saw me dying
Her ape leered at my corpse, with her filth settling, to cover my grave
My guilt sunk me deeper, as I raised one arm above the marsh, with a tenner.
*****
The Last Palace
They sleep on either sideof this path crossed
everyday, every night
the Royals
It is time to break
the fast, perhaps today
it is late, or never,
not as early as four centuries before
Or it does not matter
Anymore ? Maybe
it is dispensable
a hamam, drowsy in beds
They are woken rude,
the din of horns
blaring uncouth
in peace not war
Engines roaring fierce
these steely ghosts
racing
frighten the ghouls
Concubines now dust
touch them to rouse
they bury further down
in the cold pits
When the sun is high
sending messages of warmth
they feel the dried blood
flowing again
Afternoons lonely
the evenings as lively
as a mute audience
silent and still
to the drama for fools
Tragedies are the best
comedies
Now, it is easy to see
Their nightmares
the mocking dreams
of true selves,
these bodies of bones without flesh.
*****
Height of Love
A fall is imminentfrom where they stand; on the highest
point, the rocks are loose;
always;
they are meant to be unstable
as if by design; yet
the capering here is the merriest
dance a body with a soul could
crave for;
souls with bodies are not lithe
as without desires;
it is known that masses
accruing actions gather
momentum
and so indulgence is not profligacy;
it is the need
of existence; the force of the will
is the propulsion defying
the laws of annihilation;
all;
but the absurd believe in
love
and its achievements; it is the drop
that hangs on the highest point
at the taper of a leaf; awaiting its fall
in the mouth of a marsh frog;
always.
*****
