Sanket Mhatre’s first book of cross-translated poems, ‘The Coordinates Of Us’ won the prestigious Raza Foundation Grant after being shortlisted at iWrite2020 at Jaipur Literature Festival. His poems have appeared in anthologies such as Wives, Indian Literature, Yearbook of Indian Poetry In English 2022, Shape Of A Poem, The Well Earned, Home Anthology by Brown Critique, as well as literary magazines such as Punch, Borderless, Muse India, Madras Courier, The Usawa Literary Review, Men Matters Online and others. His second poetry collection titled, ‘A City Full Of Sirens’ was recently published by Hawakal.
Fractured
We speak in a language
fractured -
by time
splintered through distance.
With each new day
we close a door
morph into updates
Our heartbeats are negligible blips
Emptiness festers
an undergrowth in the arteries
A virus that cannot be spoken in words
Each day, we ask,
a perpetual question -
How many more days
till we shut all the doors?
Undivided
One moment can be refracted into seven idle truths
Seven layers of our being, distilled every single
time
Seven coherent possibilities staring at you, wide
eyed
While you choose one, like picking a berry from a
basket
Unravelling the skin of the clock to find another
time hidden beneath
There are seven ways of me & seven ways of you
Meeting at seven different places in seven
different cities
Saying seven different things or thinking of seven
different poems
I have found one of them, when you took off from
the airport
(The one I’m writing right now and awaiting the
other six from you)
I have kept this truth, as close to me, as your
lips were, a few days back
Before it splits into another moment
Contemplating my birth in seven different ways to
fulfil your body.
In a single, undivided night.
When
Apocalypse Ends
The
world won’t stop and think. The cogs won’t be oiled for a week.
Beaches
would be full of naked bodies swinging for another chance at life.
There
will be party. One world will abandon the other.
While
finding balance, we would lose some too.
Once
deserted airports will witness flash-mobs of the quarantined
Now
a gated community with special privileges – they had suffered the most.
The
virus and the fear. They are a new caste who will fight reservation someday.
Suspicion
will flutter from windows and balconies, the last of the dregs, kept to dry and
wilt.
Science
will vacay in exotic places. Miami. Seychelles. Recently opened Europe.
The
cure is now served in almost everything – from alcohol to chocolates
Injected
into generations for a virus free species.
Lovers,
once separated, will make furious love in rooms across the globe.
The
chaos of finding joy will skyrocket as much as stock prices.
The
world will stand back on its feet, and count its bruises, before saying, “not
much.”
Nobody
will know that this was a silent war waged to divide humanity
Until
the next apocalypse strikes.
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