Sunday, October 10, 2010


a collaborative poem by Arunansu Banjeree and Sergio A. Ortiz  


Trudging aimless
amidst the mixed crowd
of angry young men,
octogenarians, a few fair damsels,
chirpings, smiles
and an underlying tone
of a strange inferiority complex,
I still think of you.

Are you busy
with your dreams now?
You must be relaxing
by your balcony
enjoying the company
of sparrows,

and those imaginary
butterflies you used to
tell me about.
Yes, I still love your touch,
your whispers
in the morning breeze.
I wish to cook for you

your favorite gazpacho soup. 
How life slips,
slithers between our fingers!
You are somewhere in Alpine snows,
I'm slogging over the age-old
pavements of dusty
Kolkata, with the maddening crowd
ever to eager to clinch
the best bargain.
How bargains slip through
our hands! Here I am

in an internet parlour mailing you,
yet your face seems so blurred
in the photograph,  your lips
pouting slipping out
some clichéd displeasures.


Asian wind,
eager light brown Brahmin,
you come to my skin

bringing seeds
of Himalayan snow,
Kolkata gazes soaking

in orange blossoms.
Unexpected lover
what is night,

if not the royal sweat
that turns our mouths
into sponges.

We are covered
with lavender leaves
in morning rain.

Nothing slips through
our tightly woven hands,

only time wrinkled
like an old map
of the universe.

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