1

after the sunset

wheels of a returning cart
along the paddy

2
sea waves
roll from faraway
white peaks

3
traveling back
from the waves of bliss
a foam-leap

4
seeking smell
in cactus flowers:
late monsoon
5
sunrise
behind the temple
cloud’s edge
6
hanging
door protector—
Buddha
7
wiping his face
under the umbrella
an old man with books
8
reshuffling the shelves
it’s only dust, in alleys
sneezing scholarship
9
falling leaves--
a sheet of autumn
in the courtyard
10
the blue white dapples
on the canvas seeing
the eye of silence
11
on a cycle
he sells bouquets and roses
peddling dream
12
a dead leaf hangs
by a spider’s thread
invisible in sun
13
a load of wood
on her frail back—
autumn evening
14
on a sheet of ice
the chick trying to free itself
from its mother’s claws
15
after cleaning
the maid leaves behind
an oily smell
16
the lone mushroom—
a pregnant woman
stares out of the window
17
vultures waiting for
the remains of sacrifice
on the temple tree
18
chrysanthemum
on a mossy roof
deeply rooted
19
night bombing
oleander garden
white as death
20
all night rain
the gaping roof
her shelter
21
moving shadows
in the silence of the room—
windows rattle
22
a dead voice
calling up at dawn:
drowsy eyes

23
still fresh
in the hanky’s fold—
jasmine
24
her presence
some alien sensation
in my veins
25
stoops to set
pleats of her saree
mid-August
26
after the party
empty chairs in the lawn
now moon and I
27
two lizards
inside the switchboard
turned on
28
ahead of us –
racing hyacinths
in the river
29
baked and cracked
the sugarcane field
melts into mud
30
suspended
on the spider’s web
a white flower
31
a butterfly rests
on the butterfly tattooed
on her sunning back
32
enveloping
all of the moon at night—
white chrysanthemums
33
safe from sun
under nascent leaf
a small fish

34
peeling paint
from the drawing room—
shadows flicker
35
a crescent
in the western horizon—
missing the moon
36
pausing between bites
on the guava tree
the parrots
37
a yellow snake
slithers on the grass—
dewy trail of love
38
moving between
the fingers of a toddler
the first winter rain
39
the wax drips
down the long hard candle—
a soft hum
40
taking a nap
on oranges in his shop—
a fruit vendor
41
switching on
the hearing aid:
wife’s warm soup
42
wet bodies
of bathing women—
full moon night
43
her lone grief
melts in the candle wax
evening’s dark floor
44
a pregnant clown
on the squalid mattress—
crying inside

45
gulmohar tree
a girl with lilac
awaits a rickshaw
46
lust in mirror
models in lingerie:
winter rain
47
her fingers push
the roots into the earth—
touch-me-not
48
the perfume
from her armpits—
yoga
49
a snake’s dead skin
near the fence:
she stands unmoving
50
after the tumble
buried between the sheets
leftover passion
51
the bed is short
and the covering shorter—
crouching alone
52
fingers feel
decaying fireflies
in lamplight
53
pigeons fly
for shelter through smoke—
blazing windows
54
looking for shade
under the shapeless cloud
a rag picker
55
alone
the cell phone on her bed
rings

56
bedside—
our night clothes
await washing
57
seeking for
the white of the sky
in your closed eyes
58
shell-shocked or frozen
he stands in tears on hilltop
craving nirvana
59
a moth
struggling for life
on wire
60
measures loneliness
sip by sip
at dining table
61
in the well
studying her image
a woman
62
filling
emptiness of the room
with ikebana
63
shaking the hand—
couldn’t part with the henna
on her palms
64
between virgin curves
he deep breathes evening mist
rests in the hollow
65
no letters today—
addresses of his dead friends
graying in diary
66
a lamp on the river—
the breast in bridal grace
waving in the gloaming

67
her smile
arrival of spring
at the bower
68
staring at each other
two fishes in half-filled tank
ready for truce
69
greeting the first rains
after months of soaring heat—
the lone mango falls
70
making holes
in the wooden cross
white ants
71
cloud over cloud
darken earth and hide stars:
dawn and dust one
72
her wet lingerie reveals
more than her body:
I drown in her sea
73
icy bed:
moving the pillow
closer to hers
74
seeking good news
I watch the lines on my palms
taking new turns
75
prolonged rains keep
dahlias from blooming—
seeds die again
76
a dead man
couldn’t keep standing
lies in dust
77
she resents
remembering Allah
in her car

78
death in silence speaks
moonlight cleaves to the body
peace gropes for poems
79
dragons play whirlwind
among the clouds meet and rain
unite earth and sky
80
the mirror is so small
I can’t see the ocean
beyond my own look

--Ram Krishna Singh