Periwinkles so bright - Deepa Onkar
Lamplight twists on memory’s spine
spinning gold spirals of temples,
rain on the Chao Praya. Rain, heavy
and white. Rain, intense. Reminiscence
is like looking through a prism: trees,
a swarming crowd. I am an ant
drunk on coffee: pleasure bent
looks like boredom
Luxuriant peacocks and laburnums—
scent of rice, periwinkles so bright
they hurt the eyes: if only I’d savoured
the gifts of the burning roads
Gilded Buddhas—
if only I’d learnt stillness
Those empty afternoons watching
house sparrows—what felt like love—
I cannot tell what it is—
The images dwindle: it is dark
the dark is a skin that senses things
as they are: the pulse’s acceleration,
the fear when the taxi took a sharp turn
at Saphan khwai. It was dark—
dark, as it is now. Dark—ease me
into the moment—this unknowing—
with a prayer
Deepa Onkar is a writer from Chennai, India. She has degrees in English Literature from the universities of Madras and Hyderabad. Her poems and essays have been published in The Bombay Literary Magazine, Sonic Boom, The Lothlorien, The Lake, The Punch Magazine, and others. She enjoys singing and painting.
