Outside the Café
Seven in the morning, in the quadrangle,
I see her—sun-brown, dumpling thick,
Swaying to the zumba music
In her loose, flowing pants and baggy tee,
Lost yet not so lost among twenty other women.
Reckless, never trained, a wound clock,
She moves slowly, seamlessly—
Dancing on and off the beat, shifting
Her weight from one foot to another, waving
Her arms, twisting her body, moving
Into an unknowable and unsayable form.
Oblivious to my staring,
She keeps on dancing.
Like grapes in wild yeast,
Her soft movements soak my heart.
I find myself in her arms, in her body;
I find myself oozing from the aching agony
Of my vile past.
The espresso I cannot drink,
The half-eaten croissant, the raspberry jam,
These things I cannot enjoy now,
I cannot smile the smile I was meant to smile,
I cannot live the life I was meant to live—
How can I be quiet when I see a renewed life
Flash before my eyes?
There’s no time for such contemplation.
I shut off the kindle, knowing words will fail
To charm me, like the strained flirtations,
A couple of apathetic romances,
The mistakes, the heartaches.
Wishing for lonely moors to wander
Away from the lit-up screens of horror,
Her soft, firm, swaying body invites me
To an endless possibilities
And many more chances
To relive the life,
To do things right this time.
Ah, I am but a beautiful loser,
I couldn’t give myself the bountiful, the beautiful.
I take pleasure in watching the swinging of arms,
The thrumming of legs, the elegance of a dancing body.
Poetry by Bibek
Read 152 times
Written on 2018-06-28 at 13:56
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email