Muddy Moon Poem by Saroj Padhi

As the Moon looks
at her own face
in the muddy waters of my city canal
in the wake of odorous evening,
Jasmines bang their heads
on untidy slum walls
choking throats of the poor folk,
evoking the pity of living;
the fortunate few
stroll inside
in multi-storeyed high-rises
cursing stars,
filling guts with
filth
brought from fast food centres
packed in deceptive polythene,
we have learnt the tricks
of wrapping our naked souls with classy cloths,
drinking lonely soda on
crowded streets,
smoking stuffed cigars
under canopy of semi-lit
darkness,
we are the modern denizens
proud of our digital living
inside flashy room
on the edge of unrelieved
gloom.