(sonnenizio on a line from Shakespeare)
Against that time, if ever that time comes,
let me pretend my back on your floor, incumbent
with several shades of gravity. No colder comfort
than the way my voice is locum for your words, the name
I wear in lieu of touch. I'm going commando
under these jeans. You're welcome. They're pre-faded
and beside the point. I don't doubt that you're combustible,
that you've already become an electric remnant
bombarding my bones with wavelengths. I'm committed
to communication - the trick is not to listen between the lines.
The DJ allots an entire playlist and you can't recommend
my cummerbund, my big blunt wrist, my Mafia prince
but this is my take, uncommon or garden; how far
I've been going for years; where I go. /Come back/.
You don't ask for much: graph
paper. The dry sweet press of a hand.
An orange, peeled. Time.
I push my pencil
through the sockets of a house
still brown in its bones
& gather the numbers you recite
like so many seeds, smooth
and not a little bitter
Two hawks anchor the sky,
their backs to us. The solidity
of their wings irrefutable.
Ishita was born in Calcutta and lives in Kolkata. She sometimes likes to write poems about pop music.
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