Manu refers to the archetypal man, or the first man in Hindu mythology. It is analogous to Adam from the Book of Genesis.
In front of a sink, like a swaying shoot in the wind,
Hands full of soapsuds—light, passionate, oscillating
All day long between dream and illusion—he moils
Hard, swimming in his own little, soapy sea of thought.
Greasy faces linger along the autumn avenues of Manhattan,
An orange sun flickers among the yellow leaves, fragmented
Into hundred fractal shadows. Silhouettes of skyscrapers
Taper off as the dying dregs of twilight falls upon this city
Of technicolor dreams. His brown flesh against the steel
Is cold, like a dead mockingbird hanging upside down
From the broken branch. Where is his cigarette? He inhales
The taste of leftover French fries and Coke. He exhales
Brown fumes of exhaustion. The memories of his sleepy
Hamlet are distant, like shadows lingering in the damp corners
Of the past. The neon light now haunts his every passing second;
Even time has its own irregularities, lacking a rational design,
It cannot hide the shameful nakedness of dreams deferred.
His hand knit woolen sweater is jagged like those distant
Hills—the memories come once in a while in the liberty
Of loneliness. The beer and espresso bars cannot wash
The stain, the blotches of a broken life.
Ah, the orange sacrament of spoiled dreams!
If only he stood stark naked under the pine trees,
And searched for his shifting image in the narrow creek,
He’d find that he is Manu—the first man to dwell
This Earth. But there are no pine trees outside; the sink
Reflects only his distorted, fragmented face
He is too scared to see.
Poetry by Bibek
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Written on 2019-04-13 at 13:50
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