Saturday, November 19, 2005

Salim Joshua at A Soirée. . .


So we must end the conversation now.
It has hung long
From the Rembrandts and the Rousseaus
(cheap imitations
mounted on dreams
sundry & parvenu)

That your silent walls adorn.
But you wish to speak
About the trivialities that tweak
Your propriety, your idea
Of what the world is, of what it should be.
I feign interest
(how may I tell you
I am part of the world that you hate).


We sit at the bar.
Everyone has assumed a role,
Everyone is a character.
London is no more a fad,
New York may still pass.
“So I was at this glistening
Office of glass walls
On the 67th floor of Chrysler
At Lexington Avenue”
And then throw in the punch
Of how you spent the weekend
Scuba diving in Aruba,
Lounging, smoking pot
At Luna Lodge in Costa Rica.
The boys are agog.
They’re too eager to fill you in
About their training stints in Düsseldorf.
(I sigh! The farthest is
Karachi in the west)


We sneak into a quiet corner.
The evening trails as a wispy fragrance
On your wine laden lips.
I wish to drink the moistness,
Feel your heat against my breath.
My hands rustling against your breasts
But suddenly you break free –
Coquettishly –
“Wait! Let me see
Where my darling husband is?”


We sit with our bellies full,
Courgette and prawn dolloped with soufflé,
And break into idle chatter, pitter-patter
Sprinkling names –
(The conversation strains – someone coughs!)
The stiff upper-lipped editors at Knopf,
The haute couture,
The avant-garde,
The ‘here’ and ‘now’,
The ‘whys’ and ‘how’,
The ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’,
The ‘must do’ and ‘have musts’
Discerning eyebrows,
Dancing flamenco
With waspish tongues:
Shreds of half-understood conversations
Heard at someplace else –
That may ease this evening of discontent.

(But in our hearts, as the evening stretches,
Dreams fizzle like smoke
From a gun’s nozzle.)

And then…whimper!

© Dan Husain
July 14, 2005

PS: I wrote this poem in July. But I shared it at an offline writers' forum and revised it based on fellow writers' inputs. Well, most people like the revised version. I hope it works. The earlier version is somewhere in the archives, if you wish to check it out. :-)



This poem is beautiful. I love how you divided it into different parts. My favorite part is the third, when you find out she has a husband!
I really like the ending:
(But in our hearts, as the evening stretches,
Dreams fizzle like smoke
From a gun’s nozzle.)
And then…whimper!

Anonymous said...

beautiful :) i'm floored :)

Blue Athena said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Φ said...

liked the prev one as well..xcellent

Mrudula said...

I like this one.