Satya Dash: It’s exhausting to be fascinated daily

with the rattle of time      how it flexes my neck      stretches the spine
when the alarm snoozes      every morning my sincerity dies graceless
lukewarm deaths     last night in Honk Kong a million protesters
lined up the streets     then receded like a wave to make way

        for an ambulance     in this gorge of bodies spare a thought
        for the patient inside      who splintered humanity unwittingly
        into magnanimity      if I could eat such ethos with my bare
        hands     I would be filled with oxygen for days     hunger

like desire leaves you parched     for the way it emasculates then insulates     
where’s the time for tutelage      I attribute this suddenness of flood
to an ingredient in blood      called rage      oh the urge to lash out demands
veins whipping      malice of the tempting second into beads of sweat

        the next minute to summon gratitude      you need some tricks up
        your sleeve      I carry grief in self-made sacks      attached to the backs
        of my ears      coiled gardens I water time to time      wrap around bones
        threads of devotion I tied around trees in temples      knots holding me

from coming apart      on a dais months ago when asked to speak
in my mother tongue      I couldn’t string together a good sentence
later that night I scraped dictionaries      until my fingers bore letters
even then I called my mother      but couldn’t find the words for thank you

        these blurs of language they tumble out a slit      thud of ripe mangoes
        on the ground      faces birthed from a glorious tangle of fates
        the planet cocoons a larva while spinning on its axis        I recognize
        the mechanics of rotation        to rejuvenate I go around anticlockwise