When I close my eyes
and the aroma of boot polish wafts across the surface of the neem trees.

When my thoughts caress my toes
and the sharp nails sever the flesh inside my breath.

When the bat
that hit the fan
that died in the land of muezzins.

And the universe turned to water.

And effluence
seeped through
the veins behind my face.

And the thousand eyes
and the thousand ears,
began to dance
with their thousand tongues.

While the scurrying lizard
felt the gaze of a child against the wall.

And the embers that blossomed
amongst the bare feet
faded
and died
and closed their eyes.

While a silence
spread
across my palms.

And the odour of intestines
draped across the vista,
The frangipani
weeping
its waxy fragrance
into the smiling hands
that fed the soul.

And the body
that became consumed
While the flames died
and the Krishnachuras cried
And a silent fruit
became lost
in never-ending silence.


---Jib, 30 Aug 99, sitting on a beach in Port Erin, Isle of Man.