Blindfold


If your past disorders you,

draw a colonial curtain over it.

Then veil it with newspaper clippings from the future

and jail it in a cavernous closet — lock the closet,

bury the closet in your neighbor’s backyard

and shove the key down their cat’s throat.

First published in The Indian Quarterly, Volume 9, Issue 3

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Aubade & other poems

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Labyrinth of Sickness