Your City

Your city is a shrine to the deities I drowned in the bathtub, 

When maa went to the nearby temples, seeking solace in sandalwood paste, 

Even when it failed to hide the blood streaking her everywhere, 

And she dared not cross the threshold which screamed that she was unholy, 

For the river which flowed inside her womb was where heroes drowned 

In the treacherous currents out of which they are born.

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Your city is a suicide note to tragedy; departed souls come back to tell you that 

Seeking love in your city was treason against the pagan goddess 

Who fed on your misery and seethed in anger as you found that you could 

Create flames as you ran serrated wisps of grass along your tongue, lips, eyelids. 

You were a Phoenix in my unwritten ballads, 

But you chose to make the ash your home forever.

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Your city sits under my eyelids like a nightmare that refuses to leave, 

A frightening dream scared of the reality which threatens to consume it. 

Your city runs away from me, forgetting that 

I was the immigrant it sought to get rid of, 

It is a refugee hiding in my bedsheets, spilling out its corrupt secrets, 

Making room for bullet holes in its chest pocket.

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Your city has no tomorrow and it refuses to dwell in the past