My house, frigid, boils sleep.
Muffled proclamations of some announcer penetrates and pains the cool and sooth.
An old fashioned chariot heaves and hawls religious symbols somewhere outside.
The horses are groomed by Anwar, I decide. He does that, and the town has no one else to feed the beasts.
My daughter runs into the kitchen where I sit and sniff at the thoughts, asks, “What is Hindu?” I sigh, “What is a Hindu?”
She says, “I want to see the chariot.” “Let’s go to the roof.” I lead her upstairs.
From the roof we watch the procession. They must have desired some white horses. We know Anwar has none. The town has none. They must have made Anwar paint his dark ones.
The spines of the horses mimics some benign snakes. The hood of the chariot looks like a dot.
My daughter whispers, I want to sleep.” “Let’s go down. I shall read you the news.” I say.
Illustration Nick Victor
Authored ‘The Circus Came To My Island’, ‘A Place For Your Ghost Animals, Understanding The Neighborhood’, ‘Scratches Within’, ‘Kleptomaniac’s Book of Unoriginal Poems’, ‘Eternity Restoration Project- Selected and New Poems’ and now ‘Herding My Thoughts To The Slaughterhouse-A Prequel’ (Alien Buddha Press)