nthposition online magazine

Trip & The broken idol


[ poetry - november 12 ]


on the left, whitened tree trunks
on the right, geese flew

in formation, auguring rainbows
our destination moved

further away, even as the miles
dropped; it seemed

as though we were still,
and only the road sped underneath

there was such gratification
in going against the wind,

in taming it within ourselves
the landscape fluctuated

between graveyards and granite,
the moon arrived,

trembling between handlebars.


The broken idol

she wailed beside the broken idol, its trunk in her hands,
her heart amongst the countless pieces strewn all around

seeing her, I was consumed with regret; the deity
that awaited immersion in the sea, now lay fragmented

my anger, usually directed at appliances, had found a god
she cried not for the idolís loss, but its certainty of retribution

she sat on the floor, fingers in her hair, while the lordís
sweets, geometric and colorful, perfumed the air

with saffron, pistachio and raisin; the jasmine garland
that shielded a missing arm, filled my sacrilege with petals.