Jagari Mukherjee


Whether I dream
of being in a ballroom
wearing a yellow silk dress
or, whether I lose myself
in a garden of damask roses
and sea-green butterflies
the Second Waltz weaves
a cocoon between
insanity and I.
The surreal infuses itself
into the real
like a little bag of
comforting mint tea
drunk with a slow intake
of sighs on lonely evenings.
When thoughts of giving up
become vines around the soul,
Shostakovich untangles me
in response.

The music loosens a chignon
down to the waist
so that I
rush out to the garden
and re-do my hair
with a pastel butterfly.

*The Second Waltz is a musical composition by Dmitri Shostakovich.


To search you
for love
is to search for
green olives
in an orange grove...
(the machine does not beep
the X-ray is negative.
You burn the
potential tumor
of affection with the
radiation of rationality
so there is no carcinoma
of passion).
Now, to search me
for love
is to search for
snow in Greenland
or Norway's midnight sun.
(No chemo can contain
the cells
they hurt for fun
they spread and burn).

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