An evening in mercury

- For B


(A sequel to 'Parting at Park Street')



-1-


you’re standing by the window;
insomnia


you hear
the soft breath of the city
entangled in winter mist


inhale the silence
inside the heart of the swollen river,


and feel the pulse
of the broken sky
throb with flickering thoughts


as the city slides
on fragments
between a poem
and sleep


-2-


what are the women doing
in the rain?


draped in thunder
and songs,


as my fingers
lick the silence,
exploring the ruins
of her sari


why does the bed
smell of lost lovers?


-3-


nights of prayers
and sweat,


as we exchanged glances
in the taxi on the VIP


talking in fits and starts
or polite whispers


and you kept complaining
that it was getting late
but the traffic kept us waiting


your thoughts in a dream
and the rim of your skirt
on my naked toes,


I savoured every second
of the uneasy silence


-4-


rain girl,
it’s been nine winters


since I left you standing alone
at the crossroads
in Park Street


and I have lost your touch
inside the catacombs
of this fragile city


I always expected
one last letter,
but I never really bothered
to look for it


-5-


dance of the moon
in the embrace of the river,


the bridge swings
in tension with secrets


the night once again
talks of uncertainties


as lonely streets
drunk with mercury lamps
recede in the mirror


and melt
in the voyeur of smoke


I succumb
to the meaning
of touch


-6-


staring through the blinds,
you strain to detect
the last traces of sound


those sad evanescent whispers
from sleepy apartments
as stars sulk on the horizon


one by one
you count the lights,
as they go out


inside the ebony spaces
of this dead city


and you know
it’s your turn now