MARCH
by Shikhandin
This is not the season
to be alone.
Elements in the air
react against skin and heart.
Those soft inner parts
that you hid all winter.
It is dangerous to be
alone in March.
You can never tell what
your eyes will reveal
to a complete stranger
at the bus stop or bazaar. Or up the stairs
on your way to the
solicitors’ office – what were you doing there
in the first place? This
is not the season for lawsuits.
March is not even a
season.
March is a licentious
beast.
A surreptitious and
stealthy time
in the name of such wild
feasts
of colours and scents
that within your heart
a frantic dove beats its
wings and outside
the boney serrated
walls, unchained ones caterwaul.
Calling out to all the
unclenched spirits
rising up to kiss the
full March Moon.
Intellect is brought
down to its knobby knees.
Sagacity, caught
brooding
between newly un-muffed
ears, is doused.
There is much mischief
afoot.
For who really knows
what spirits will rule
over this flesh that lies fallen, like an over-ripe autumnal fruit?
Madness marches on scattering tidings as yellow as pollen.
over this flesh that lies fallen, like an over-ripe autumnal fruit?
Madness marches on scattering tidings as yellow as pollen.
Beware! Should you sniff
that heady snuff, you will go
wandering. That timid
dove within you will,
to your surprise, let
out a lusty cry.
Satin sheens of sunlit
air will tear
scattering lucent
dementia everywhere,
beating wild
bacchanalian rhythm. Oh no!
Nothing does or ever
will makes sense in March!
Nothing at all, except
the moth balls
that you have begun to
tuck
inside quilts still
smelling of eggnog and cake crumbs
and a whiff of that
something that you
had promised yourself at
the end of the year.
But even that is not
enough for March
in whose unrelenting
grasp
your body becomes a
chalice, overflowing.
Oh, so sweetly
overflowing, in March!
* * * * *
Shikhandin is the nom de plume of an award winning Indian writer, who writes for both
adults and children. Books include among others, Immoderate Men: Stories published by Speaking Tiger, India and Vibhuti Cat an illustrated book for
children, published by Duckbill. For more on Shikhandin you can visit her
Amazon page: https://www.amazon.com/author/shikhandin and
her Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorShikhandin/
I believe I've just lived an entire month, with its mysteries, its sensual passage from poignance to promise.
ReplyDeleteAw we're on the same page here with full moons and wild feasts and beasts :) Wonderful poem!!!
ReplyDeleteThank you Mathew and Oonah, so much. Am very late, so so late in responding. So many things get inn the way. I am so glad Beate and all of you here enjoyed this poem. Means a lot to me.
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