Poetry: Carol D’Souza

Carol D’Souza

February evening

You step out on a mid-week February evening

For a moment, the light catches the shoulders 

of the city so familiarly, you know love is not a 

myth. Two women with 

a decade dozing between 

them chat their way up a street as a God in a 

corner alcove is surprised into attention by a 

passer-by accosting Her with a prayer at dusk.

***

This prayer made stone

In the shade of the Jama Masjid

she and I sit under an awning, gazing.

The transient, milling crowd 

throws into relief the mosque's 

timeless, majestic bearing.

*** 

Hiccupping history

Muslim. Islam. Mughal

Rahim. Ram. Ghazal

Lahore and Dilli

Across two recent books, a

newspaper column and a 

poetry reading, they pursue me

What are they whispering?

***

 

Pull

I am no longer tethered to its vicissitudes 

And yet, the wax and wane of your mood

brightens and darkens, in turn, a sliver

of my day still held in sway

of its receding pull. 

***

 

Retired

for Garima

On a mild November day

A defunct bus stop vacantly stares 

out. A commuter wanders in 

by mistake. In surprised haste it stashes 

away listlessness. Arranges face

Redirects 

them. Then 

slumps back again.

***

Bio: Carol D'Souza is a writer and translator based in Chennai, India. A collection of her work can be found at linktr.ee/cblaizd

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Setu, January 2024