Gershwin derides
shadows shattered across my body
dying
in reverse
smokes of your old lips
fill in the space
in stasis
crumbs of
moonbeam
ripple out
through
rhapsody
i died
like a dog
before
and now again
tell me i belong
the body
of the hummingbird
pure as papier-mâché
beneath
Gaza
nothing so mythic
this blue
how only Rumi could see
there’s a moon in everyone
.
Debasis Mukhopadhyay
.
I just found this today (tags are disabled on FB because, well, too many things) but Gershwin to Rumi is epic – and papier-mâché hummingbirds are tuned to great things. Honoured to read this.
Comment by John Hutnyk on 19 November, 2024 at 11:04 pm