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Vikas Kizhepat
Menon
URDU FUNK: THE GENTLE ART OF SUBTITLES
the lover must remove the veil
of her face. hell will
fall if papa hears him. if the storm of disgrace
enters through the window,
my father’s turban will be disrespected.
don’t develop an affair with
me. this is the dust of the storm in your
eyes which can cause havoc.
truth is always dry.
DESERT THROAT
-for Mongolian
vocalist Urna Chahar-Tugchi
champ the bit, whirl, snarl.
the rope is not long enough. it never was.
urna sculpts
a thousand horses of dust, wind
flayed ribs
naked on the steppes, an unutterable lullaby
to the gale, a tempest flower.
she keens for the lonely arc we leave
our little ones,
wails for the breach of each birth:
desecrated silence.
bless me with your wept howl,
molting foal, mare shying from the bit.
incant sand
to rain the clarity of your cry
tenseless
incessant
DROWN
However and wherever
you find the god, bring him back to us.
Bring him back,
but first tell him,
tell him that the love
of his life is dead, and will rot
before he arrives back
in our arms.
He will cripple, be dung-laden
hobble on frail bones.
He will lose all his hair.
He will arrive like us:
spitting water from his mouth.
THRENODY
As always, it begins and ends in pain. Bodies
litter the landscape.
Kneel,
the blood on your hands from your handpicked god,
and cry again, cry in front of your altar,
whatever and wherever it is.
You are the eternal war.
©
Vikas Kizhepat Menon 2007 |