by Fabiyas M V
A giant road is emerging. My sandy path
is ready to be swallowed. Gambol, amble,
ramble, saunter, stride… My way knows
a variety of my gaits. This is a stamped
path in my gene as an elephant corridor.
It’s open for the rat snakes, mongooses,
cats, and men. When I lose my way, no
one will come to me. The machine claws
won’t shiver when they pluck my black
plum tree on the wayside. My silence
will be deluged by the motor cacophonies.
The hullabaloos will petrify the birds and
my poetry. The tortoise lying on the grass
with its head inside serenity is unaware of
the imminent doom. Already molded
in loss, I can keep up my sangfroid.
First published in The Literary Hatchet