bliss station ~ poetry

machinery threads

in the exam hall we hold pens like guns -

scouts entering forests / arrows half-nocked

how do I parade this machine of a feeling as

the bus nearly slams into an unflinching crowd

as it does a cow crosses the road / people walk

wristcuffed // there is smoke in our wallowing -

rising from beds pulling an omelet over bread

like a blanket to sleep longer in / a glass of tea

in the canteen sometimes two // in a city of ash

I sip slowly a tea of my own / a glass of milk -

I remember the cow crossing the road / the calf

that looks phoenix / I laugh with soap in my eye -

[ you really thought you could keep your eyes

open through the process, didn't you ]

it's just about the tea & then a glass to drink it from

a table to keep it on / a face to look at as I sip slowly

the crowd brings its own rain smelling of brimstone

& feeling of fire // & then the face to look at -

while I sip slowly holds out a hand / I let ice melt

in the heat of the palm like a parade waning away

~ Ajay
24/1/2020