by Sutapa Chaudhuri (February 2016)
Lies inform
the leftover caresses.
Arteries clog
with unwanted truths—
the veins of life
grow thin and brittle;
slow but sure,
like the dark phone lines
that crisscross
the overhead skies
in set geometric patterns,
blood too coagulates
beneath the suppurating skin.
Heavy and burdensome,
loneliness solidifies,
pressing like a slab of stone
on wheezing chests, vital air
absent in asphyxiated lungs.
Sleepless, the night wakes—
searching for traces of life
in phantom selves and
fragmented relations
trying to find meaning
in the age-old axiom.
_______________________________________
Sutapa Chaudhuri has two poetry collections — Broken Rhapsodies and Touching Nadir. My Lord, My Well-Beloved is a collection of her translations of Rabindranath Tagore’s songs.
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