Don’t refer to my father
He for whom even hot water proved unbearable
O, please don’t order the tender fingers
of my younger brother to
set him afire.
Forgetting the pages for a while
He is reposing on the lap of sleep.
Just leave him alone.
Smash your bier.
He had never liked gold;
Please don’t thrust coins into his mouth.
No need to feel shocked
to see him lying there so cool;
That is his nature.
O, stop your cries;
Just leave my daddy with me.
I will have a word with Death.
You are more cruel.
MY YONI: FORGOTTEN AND LEFT AT HOME
You had invited me for a discussion on Poetry.
“I am not the ‘she’ of my love-poems” -
While I was completing this sentence
I was drinking the last drop of my
second cup of coffee.
Just at the moment
You received the fourth call from your wife.
You talked about supper.
During the pause
you observed that your wife detested literature;
All the more, she loathed women writers utterly,
‘‘In the 27th poem of your book
Line number seven
The third word-’’
And you fumbled a little.
“The vagina mentioned in it is of course mine;
But, you see,
I have absently left it at home itself.”