CITATION: Singh A. (2006), A Case of Identity (MSM Poems). In: What Medicine Means To Me, MSM, III:6, IV:1-4.
A Case of Identity
Tonight at a classical dance recital
the eternal quest of the soul-force for God
I too raised for myself some questions
As I saw the dancer adopt body twisted
beautifully gymnastic postures
like a question mark put before me
who am I?
Am I the inquisitive streetwalker listening at pavements
to snake charmers’ aphrodisiac calls,
watching indolently as the fast cycling rogue
whirling past knocks her off, squeezes her breasts,
leaves me to pacify her smothered adolescence.
Or am I the automaton
That hangs on to footboards and breezes past in fast trains
every morning and evening
the only sensation left in me being in my hands
holding on for dear life, and in my lips
wolf whistling as I swirl past platforms.
Or just the nimble fingers
typing away at jet-speed,
taking down bosses’ notes, thumbing
across wads of money,
with prospective customers.
Or just tongues, tongues and more tongues
with mounds and mounds of sugar and ghee and adulterated oils
pouring it all into unknowing ears
furthering business prospects
feeding everyone around in slow poison doses
and fattening on pure ghee, purity of expression, conscience.
So that I can decorate my drawing room with costly paintings and
watch expensive dance recitals
and answer question marks once in a while.
Ajai R. Singh
CITATION: Singh A. (2006), More Smoke (MSM Poems). In: What
Medicine Means To Me, MSM, III:6, IV:1-4.
In the hot sultry fiasco of damp
and silver rays in gloomy
narcosis and the feeling
of melting ice on frozen palms.
Arborescent shadows of sorrow
in reminiscent silhouettes
the rain soaked evening
of pouring emotions
and grassy long walks on dripping
Seeking out each other.
Remember, my dear
the sweet faint lavender
in the cleft of your breasts
hidden from the present and
the knowledge of transience.
Looking at the grey skies
I think of clear blue water
and simmering passions
you’ve created a smoke screen