Follow Vishal Dutia on WordPress.comSky-man in a manhole
with astronomy for dream,
astrology for nightmare;fat man full of proverbs,
the language of lean years,
living in square afteralmanac square
prefiguring the day
of windfall and landslidethrough a calculus
of good hours,
clutching at the tearin his birthday shirt
as at a hole
in his mildewed horoscope,squinting at the parallax
of black planets,
his Tiger, his Haremoving in Sanskrit zodiacs,
forever troubled
by the fractions, the kidneysin his Tamil flesh,
his body the Great Bear
dipping for the honey,the woman-smell
in the small curly hair
down there.
© VishalDutia
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