Trip & The broken idol
by Arjun Rajendran
[ poetry - november 12 ]
Trip
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 idol’s loss, but its certainty of retribution
she sat on the floor, fingers in her hair, while the lord’s
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.
