Page 44 - January 2021

Minuscule Pantomime

Jyoti Nair

Jyoti Nair is a poet who won several accolades for
her literary pursuits. She lives in India.

Her eyes felt some itchiness, Blinders taken off...
they have been blinking, The heretofore irrelevant,
to seive that queerness, a bit more... that minuscule pantomime...
Queerness which caressed her
since a few days now... Evenings are destined to lit bonfire,
Moistened her dreary linings, and embracing embers...
for some Suns, at least... The twilight beam,
Even as peering conscience that he awaited and walked along.
tuned the radar by the minute. His coarse skin,

polished silky,
Summer afternoons, sultry, yet husk vital-vitreous,
are usually the puddles that we by finger tips,
chuckle and jump over... carved by the Elysian chisel.
They may surface as quaint, rusted... They are the clasps
rushed anecdotes, chosen for him by the
perched on skirtings, Blue Nightingale, who sings
that we will deliberately avoid, through many skies,
to broom through... while Crickets steal some tunes,
Perhaps to save those dust laces, to stitch lullabies
when we write about for our stranded nights
reminiscing Lilies... when the Nightingale
decides to sleep early!

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litterateur 4 january 2021