Wednesday, June 6, 2012

The Malang

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old memories
his love
his affection
out of the
window
of her heart
she flung
her actions
on the soul
of a malang
viciously
like a bee
she stung
his pain
his poetry
his pathos
far flung
from
the end
of her
lal dupatta
from a fan
he hung
reciting prayers
to his holy saints
adler freud and jung
a poet who
lost his tongue
her presence
made him young
till the baton
of her childish
precociousness
on his head
she flung
a malang
buried
on a heap of
a cow dung
he died
unsung
she kissed
him back to life
made him write
another poem
than once again
from a tall crane
she re hung
a goddess
blessed with a
forked tongue
a surprise
on his dead soul
she sprung

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