MY BODY, A CITY Comments

My body, a city,
my eyes, its cantonments.
In them the eternal vigilance
of watchful sentries.
A railway station between
my ears: there the unceasing tumult
of crowds that wait for
a mate or a prey and
fall asleep, tired: folks who
always miss their trains,
orphaned thoughts gone astray,
memories lost between
the chiming of bells and
the whistles of the wagons,
fire-filled dreams that pant
and wait for their green signals.
My veins are rivers, noisy
with anklets, my nerves, wires
that carry music and light.
My entrails are streets busy with traffic.
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