River of Dawn

You too move like the moon,

like sleep jutted out of its circle

taking after slick ballet steps.

Both of you elude me,

cast a djinn-like alcoholic stupor.

The lines of your face

stand in contrast to the moon,

though both of you haunt me with

the night ending -

a whole year of restless verses

and moon worshipping.

You mutter aubade

as I am terrorised by moving frames

Aubade brushes my hair

The moon slowly erases away.

Serious love-making has its consequences.

I can’t sit still on the toilet seat

oblivious to the fainting moon.

She asks for respite like an urchin

with woe painted all over her,

She becomes a refugee and drenches

my then soporific existence

into a well of pity.

On her way out

she sprinkles confetti of concern.

She does it before the sun can eat them up.

I eat the first light

of aubade, as you said in bed.

I leave the sunlit sink sweltering,

How will the moon look tonight?

4 AM

Trumpeters of yellow light

will soon close in

with the muezzin’s last cry

You finish your moonset song,

Newspaper men wake up early here

you remind me again

as the last syllables are caught midair

by the thud on your porch .

Ripe weekend eyes hardly consumed

the Saturday nutrients kept aside

We have come far from summer loos

and reflective car bonnets

Now the solstice carries a legacy of rituals.

An unofficial day of observation

Of stretched grief.

Of restricted breathing spaces.

I tear myself away from invites

to sleep over the Sunday morning

My blue porch has become a prayer rug for my cat

with a half- asleep paw on a faded ping pong.

She fills the blank of a companion.

When June turns into a tormentor

I come back home to her, sulking

for an uneventful dinner last night

She squints right at my encumbered chest

and tries hard to be unbothered

Striding and walking away like angry mothers

Angry loving mothers with their ‘I told you so’

Yet remaining true to her kind

She permits me one night of indulgence

For a year long detachment.