Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Year Book

Sayantan Roy
115, Welbourne Street

I have looked at this photograph
Twenty two times in thirty one minutes
Your face and then back to his
Your childish wide grin
his unbearable good looks
Your body tilted towards him,
face out of focus yet facing the lens

I saw you in that photograph with Adam
You looked blissful like Aparna Sen
in the Monsoon girl pic
And all your friends and everybody was there
and you sat in a circle with all
yet you two look cut out of it

I wonder how happy does he make you
To be truthful I have red eyes
But I guess am just tired

The emotion that yearns for you
never sinks in,
it floats

like my limpid verse
staggering to a hault
in the whirlwind of a heartache

So do his fingers run through your hair?
they must
and has he yet noticed
the still perspiration dabs around your neck
or your love for all things bronze
and hard cover
that sometimes you eat a lot of cheese
just for the heck of it
that you sketch beautiful but haunted women
in the last pages of your notebook
that you taste like an alphonso
and kiss like an adolescent
your voice is the mirror to your mind
that you have the tiniest set of feet and palms
never did you read, that one Tolstoy
your eyebrows have a life of their own
that Colombian coffee beans, exists
that you are all my poetries
that you are just you
and something more

In the slow embers and patina of mists
everything shall hide itself out
and all my thoughts of you
shall die a slow desirable euthanasia
I shall again write meaningful poems
with no undercurrents
and that never more
shall you find me absent minded
moving my right feet back and forth
and quoting out of breath
and writing

etc.. etc.. etc..

No comments: