Echinated transfers spike: a dystopian
tryst I wish on no one. Never happy as
a satisficer: this is my essence and ache.
For years I vocalized, may speechless-
ness fly where my drumming failed to.
A slow learner it took half a century to
read the cast in your eyes. Crushed by
suppositiousness is blankety-blank worse
than straight out swindling. One can’t
even seek relief by rebuking oneself.
Whorls of your finger as fard on pinnate
of my brows. When appetence prods us
we peel ourselves of paint. Our lines, pauses,
intonations turn to autoschediasm, breaking
into brogue. Pilgrimage is a guilt-free holiday
in house-holds of humble bearings: flushing
with resin of restive beats our orison. Pan-
handlers of love: this calm, our wages.
Auditory sensations from symphonette
initiated the much needed collyrium.
We never possessed musical skills for
a melisma, in essence that was the thrust
of our tie-in. Especially in the early part
when unilateral rulings hadn’t coerced
us to backslide from the constitution
of closeness. It unleashed a rum do
we failed to capitulate.
In our region there are no eglantines.
I inhale the dash from dustbins. An
unanswered email hurts less than a
smile not returned. Demulcent fuel
packs distance. You volplane in my
mind’s home plate without signals.
I need to sack my ATS officials. I
will cashier from your ledger.
Sanjeev Sethi is the author of three books of poetry. His most recent collection is This Summer and That Summer (Bloomsbury, 2015). His poems are in venues around the world: The Broadkill Review, After the Pause, Chicago Record Magazine, Horror Sleaze and Trash, Former People, Stickman Review, Ann Arbor Review, Neologism Poetry Journal, Home Planet News, London Grip, Morphrog 16, Postcolonial Text, and elsewhere. He lives in Mumbai, India.