A rattling bog by Debasis Mukhopadhyay

If the big hole in the ground was just a bog
A rattling bog
And the green grass grew all around
Standing deep in the hole
The sky would forget
She was Bangladesh
The swelled walls of partition
The breath and flown off waves of cyclones
The language martyr
Awake in an open grave
A root
A rattling root
And solitude
Bathing in the hole
The big hole is still in the ground
It is where
The bones to rest
And the green grass grows all around
An old yesterday
Always lurking
A rattling Yesterday
Bangladesh everyday
If the big hole in my chest was just a blog
A rattling blog
My words soared from beneath the hole in the ground
I was anybody who would not lisp at anybody’s knees
I was anybody who loved her
And killed in return
A rattling death
Not so somber
Root and solitude
Now to swim in tandem in that hole
Waiting for the days left to wait
For another death
The big hole in my chest is not just a blog
A yesterday
An old Yesterday
Always lurking
A bog of blood
Rattling blood
Debasis Mukhopadhyay is a poet from Montreal. His poems have appeared most recently in over a dozen literary magazines such as Yellow Chair Review, Thirteen Myna Birds, With Painted Words (U.K.), Of/With, I am not a silent poet, Silver Birch Press, Foliate Oak, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, Snapping Twig, Eunoia Review, Down in the Dirt, Fragments of Chiaroscuro, Words Surfacing, etc. Follow him at  debasis mukhopadhyay or @dbasis_m on Twitter.

2 thoughts on “A rattling bog by Debasis Mukhopadhyay

  1. Pingback: Freedom, still not earned | debasis mukhopadhyay

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