Tuesday, 15 April 2008

The Stone Age


Fond husband, ancient settler in the mind,

Old fat spider, weaving webs of bewilderment, Be kind.

You turn me into a bird of stone,

a granite Dove, you build round me a shabby room,

And stroke my pitted face absent-mindedly while You read.

With loud talk you bruise my pre-morning sleep,

You stick a finger into my dreaming eye.

And Yet, on daydreams, strong men cast their shadows, they sink Like white suns in the swell of my Dravidian blood,

Secretly flow the drains beneath sacred cities. When you leave, I drive my blue battered car Along the bluer sea.

I run up the forty Noisy steps to knock at another's door.

Through peep-holes, the neighbours watch, they watch me come And go like rain.

Ask me, everybody, ask me What he sees in me, ask me why he is called a lion,

A libertine, ask me why his hand sways like a hooded snake Before it clasps my pubis.

Ask me why like A great tree, felled, he slumps against my breasts, And sleeps.

Ask me why life is short

and love is Shorter still,

ask me what is bliss and what its price....

3 comments:

shampa said...

Kamala Das..!!
"ask me what is bliss and what its price.... "

roshni said...

i knew u would like it.....shampa...

shampa said...

yes Roshni.. I really did like the poem..The whole day the poem was reverberating in my mind..

you keep writing..