Now Poem by Procyon Mukherjee

Now we will hear some talk
Some light smoke, smothering remains
Of a banter, wayward moves, uncertainties
Sometimes coming back to you like
A hurtled search, leaving more questions

Some of this
That we left out in the homely rooms
Or the walks, by the side of rosemary trees
Some basking in the wallows
Of emotion, venting and uprooting
Beliefs we left in the drawers,
Lost pages of underwriting, the future that never could be in burnt pyres


Now we will close a lid or two
Some spilling lanterns with idle light
Marking images with no shadows
Now we will stop these dancing mimicry
Of worn out shafts, jammed and jarred
Into stopped pistons, the engine hurtled
To the whistle of gasping air

Now no more
The turning waft of cold
The first flakes of despair, reminding us
To the only sum of importance
That the long wait would whisper
Now we will reach for the shovel, the winter tires
The boots or food for the birds