We feast all the time
eat like emperors
each meal a banquet
sip the smell of rain the stubbly moon
spread uneven fingers over trees
drink in the quiet of pooled thoughts
divide light with moths, mites, crickets
and the odd visitor toad
devour the music of words
words in eight voices and accents
and moods sometimes ten or twelve
toast to the exuberant delight
the laughter of a mama bear laden
with honey and meat dip long
into the magic of revisited tales of beginnings and ends
filled with a Danish bumbling god with no sense
of shape and heroines with a predilection for puns
and one cranky rhino who will save the world
once glimpse the quicksilver
puckish god of poetry

Now multiply them the laughter the words
the thought the delight the sorrow this time
leave some in the alcoves on eaves
beside windows sprinkled on butterfly
wings stray sunlit free verses
on the grass and carry the rest
in wallets and pockets dangle
them from ears you’ll still find a few
in the hollow of a throat


Written during a residency at Sangam House (November 2012)


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