at the railway station
like Godot I paused to see
the arrival hour. we live full
of pre-occupations of time
in the dark. now shaded
like a painting of Edvard
Munch, I stutter by the dim
pathway that overlooks train
tracks. there is somebody who
awaits me with their anxiety
on the other side but memory
is blue. not sure if Godot is
God as much as the lines over
my palms, destiny. we have all
taken the curvature, aligned
as a full-stop with train smoke.
for this instant, something real
in an unreal city moves. the carcass
of un-being follows in its casket.
they burned fallen leaves this noon
they have nothing better to do
they smell combinations of harvest
they are acquainted with their job
they sweep the whole town empty
they are fanatics of a local municipality
they play cards every stoic evening
they believe their hands are momentum
they surround stretches of ignored roads
they have come again this year, for autumn.
Formless in sleets of pink smeared
Roughness, of pale blue metamorphosis,
In layers of black; peering pensive
Seeming primal spaces as Byzantine
Architecture, remade with weathering
That draw with pencil severity and
Expunge with pale smoothness: Which
belong to a language discovered by
Ruffled flannel like waves;
Heightening and in lowly tides, where
The moon distills its shimmering luster
In the slant fillings of rain in an echoing
Ocean of reverberations.
In descending oblique lines patterned
Across skies while dry winds whisper
Through unrelenting grasses. These spots
Of infinities over one plain horizon burst
Into fragments. Shadows rise at evening,
In finality strokes of the hour. When the
Smoke from chimneys have passed far end
Linings, the farthermost border of a town.
The dooryards, in warm and cold weather
Insulation; thread like hold smithereens
Together. Distillation on white canvas
Compass residuals of vestigial nuance,
Teetering as spirituous neoclassical.
Sneha Subramanian Kanta is a GREAT scholarship awardee and reads for a second postgraduate degree in literature in England. Her poem ‘At Dusk With the Gods’ won the Alfaaz (Kalaage) prize. She is co-founder of Parentheses Journal, a collaborative venture that straddles hybrid genres across coasts and climes. She is also the poetry editor for Counterclock. Her work is forthcoming in infinite space, Calamus Journal, Door Is A Jar and elsewhere.