Saturday, December 29, 2012

Woman takes a bus in India



  • Here's a poem I wrote about taking the bus in India, which got left out of the collection 'Sips...,' unfortunately.

    TOO CLOSE

    I
    My parents, landed with luggage
    In the lurching bus, handed me
    Over the jammed bodies
    To the seated conductor.
    The blue-uniformed, paan-chewing
    Dispenser of tickets, keeper
    Of a bag full of jingling change,
    Held my three-year-old body
    Locked between his knees
    As he ripped off a ticket
    To Paris or Moore Market,
    And blew a whistle in my ear.

    II
    I leave a laugh at the doorstep
    And plunge my body sixteen
    Between the backside of a fat woman
    And the violence of a thousand rearing men
    Who plough into a city bus, every hour
    On the hour, to sow their bulletin.

    The numb, dumb anger
    Of a thousand sournesses
    Raise head and spear this body.
    They grind and grind like teeth
    In a fever of sleep,
    And the hot release of stoppered sex
    Scalds me again and again,
    As the bus jerks to its destination.