by Shawn Anto


on a hill I see the boulder impacting & collapsing lungs
Sisyphus tired, lounging in his defeat
violence shifting reality under him, mudslide on a frame
cracked in half, whistling notes as wind passes it by.

to think the eye is casting a shadow on defeat a north star
dangling like a piece of glitter above, right to tell me
to let hope die for a cause of being myself
what Kerala looks like through a kaleidoscopic gaze
a haze of brown skin and flood, we all die eventually
but I swear I haven’t had enough of a new life or new body
what comes in twos heaves itself off of the ledge of identity.

it works better when there is a hand guiding you
a bright dead thing finds itself only at night
a ghost never understanding much like our parents
on our backs expecting obedience for a vocation
and a life pillar collapsing when they don’t get what they want
it’s all a work to hasten violence on a name, words gutting comfort.

I shall inherit a scorched coconut-scented earth when I am ready, come
quiet and beautiful
throw mud at the window, let a harsh fogginess disturb perspective
save yourself from another collapse of names, a blood-line too often faded
on the wrong ideals and expectations, this wall is not big enough
I know the way despite the compass being broken
we are okay in this winking broken bone, elbow me. I’ll see reality
don’t obstruct my view.

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