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

Yesterday

The swelled walls of partition

The breath and flown off waves of cyclones

The language martyr

Awake in an open grave

Bangladesh

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

Bangladesh

A bog of blood

Rattling blood

Everyday

 ..

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.