Digital Poetics 3.30 Two Poems from ‘Centre’s Reserve’ by Mantra Mukim
lush metal
small offerings
to the new
Hyundai Santro
Zing manual
sandalwood paste
in the brahmin mix
coconut water
& white rice
patted down
swastika
slowly melting
over typhoon grey
metal bonnet
Uncle parks it
across the gate
under the dead
but fibrous
machinery of
jacaranda tree
its mihrab-shaped
hollow
pampered with
wind’s many gifts
sparrow’s testimony
& makrana marble
debris
all the way from
Empire Heights
construction site
with an empty
Lays Spanish
tomato tango
sudden hailstorm
quietens the frame
with its dedicated
patter
accumulation
of ice bricks
hail falls
an absolute falling
of spare parts
lacking body
slipstreaming
birthing
new weights
on landing-
sites chosen
without tact
roots turn shoots
tarp bellies
thousand calories richer
post and lintels
carpet stained
overhead wires
paddy stocks
in open field
mangled ozonal lines
chisels on the
tarmac
curious in its curve
storm snatches
brother’s
maroon knickers
off ropes
pixelated in sky
deep cerulean
balls
awoken tree
roots
with their
vague metaleptic
feet on Santro’s
dash board
nailed in
what could
be more moving
than words
on its registration papers
snug
in the backseat
legible through
the storm
jagjeet singh
cassette still
hot in the holder
withering
offers one voice
droning
over visible land
frosted
sugar-apples in
monsoon’s
small hands
standing erect
named
in insurance
cheques & frauds
uncle remembers
celebration beers
behind closed doors
as the storm
shook through
narrow gauges
everywhere
noodles over
drain holes
in unchecked wonder
metal’s anarchic will
unheard
through our balconies
there were
three crows hiding
beside the gear box
when we found
the Santro
cracked
to the bone
body with all
its organs
still inside it
& some new ones
the ground
had not opened
a toenail
littered diamonds
uncle’s one earpin
& worlds within it
unstirred
roughage for city’s steel
slouching
thick with air
uncle’s alphabets
falling like
no other
clutching
disaster’s passing
index finger
for it delivered
that slow
fracturing tickle
to his
lush metal
through sur
fish me out
for good
this time
by your mercy
murari
wading through
sludge
the ocean
of this world
illusion embracing
flickering
halogen
moths collecting
over billboard
selling top-tier
Assam Tea
first flushed
this is some
seriously deep
waters
toe-up greed
sends electric
waves
through
the surface
fired vibrating
matter
in dull carcass of
march light
waves thudding
solid grey
extractions
and the ever
fastening
grips
of drowning
take me
further in the
throes of
marketplace
its rage
& a constant lust
& camaraderie
of those friends
of the arcade
who detain
me from seeing
the lifeboat
with your
name on it, murari,
the boat that
could have
pulled a quick one
on these deep
pelagic noises
chimera
my affects &
sense-complex
nibble at me
like fishes in
these waters
my own
follies
deadweight
owing which
i can’t
find a footing
anywhere
in the endless
drift
delicate hands
of seaweeds
keep me
exactly
where i am
in the steamer
from Jaws
shouting
‘smile you
son of a bitch’
to various
waters mixing
near the stern
bullet for
an opening
tired
living without
life
haven’t i left
enough messages
to plead your
mercy
Shyam, the one and
only, from Braj
would you please
just rescue
me now
picking me
up in
your thickboi
arms
*
Mantra Mukim is from Raipur, India and is currently researching Samuel Beckett at Warwick University. His poetry and essays have appeared in Hotel, Spamzine, Poetry Review, Magma, Almost Island, and The Drift.
*
The moral right of the author has been asserted. However, the Hythe is an open-access journal and we welcome the use of all materials on it for educational and creative workshop purposes.
