IN LIEU OF THE MISSING POEM

Dear reader,

A poem at the centre of the collection,
Is missing, as you can gather.
To speak truly, its absence, equally
Baffles me. Did I lose it to computer virus
Or did the censor excise it;
Or were there only twenty-nine in all,
Making this the unwritten poem?
Or does this represent the overwhelmingly absent presence,
Suggesting, like nirvana or the impossible
Revolution, something that we strive towards,
But never attain-I mean, Love?
Thus it becomes all that I was unable to say,
The sunya in the heart of purna,
The cavity in the middle of the decentred
Text; in a word, the death of the self,
(Or instead of the missing poem, these sixteen lines.)
 

THE DANCE

The rain-dance required prior permission from Mother.
IN the tiled courtyard in the middle of the house,
Gleefully shedding our clothes—those encumbrances—
We two brothers would assemble.
Then frisking and romping in the showers
We would yell for our neighbours upstairs
(Sisters of five and seven with rhyming names)
To join us, splashing about a great deal
To make our invitation attractive.

Then, with bated breaths we awaited the outcome
Of the artful badgering of our peers,
Considering that their father was out, and
Conniving to use the occasion
To bathe her daughters thoroughly,
Aunty upstairs would reluctantly grant permission.

I danced till my limbs failed
Or it stopped raining,
Scarcely realizing that the image of two immature girls,
Soaped from head to toe, dancing wildly,
Slowly washed by the rain to pink nakedness
Would follow me across the gulf of puberty
Into the wet dreams of an uneasy adolescence.