• Poems by Sanjeev Sethi

    August 3, 2016

    © Syed Haider Raza / via pinterest.com​



    Hyphens of hate criss-cross with apostrophes of 
    animosity to create a pastiche of uncertainities 
    and sureties: the gone had rib cages like
    you and me. They lacked our luck — or ill luck.
    When scops are sidelined and couturiers grace 
    the glossies, when tonsure artists are billed 
    higher than bards, it’s a malice graver than 
    managing the media. 


    Firecrackers stowed in the mind’s fuselage miss
    embers of empathy. In the safety of my cauldron,  
    I simmer like onions in a wok on a salamander. 
    Secrets are stenciled. This routine of roneo dares 
    to dox. I splay a collage with lines that leaven me. 
    On paper I meet my shrink.


    The rainbow has riddles.
    Some fine answers,
    and an echo too.
    One needs an ear    
    to hear their hymns.
    This will set you 
    free from fog. 

    Your gaze will grasp 
    the longing on their lips,
    and accept this recent
    bluster as the sing-song 
    blitz of the beleaguered.

    You eluded auscultating  
    the storm in their center.
    Some claps are now closed. 
    These grip their grief.


    Inebriated, one gybes 
    on other coasts, like 
    media outlets that obfuscate 
    the rut of those affiliated 
    through ponzi or suchlike 
    schemes. Now I know 
    why I was hooked on 
    to TV bulletins with 
    my swigs in the years 
    I drank to darkness. 

    Sanjeev Sethi is a poet from Mumbai. This Summer and That Summer is his third and latest book of poems.

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