some solace

i always enjoy the 'Know Your English' column in The Hindu every Tuesday. especially for the quote at the end of it.
that Mr S Upendran has a sense of humour, is evident from his examples and from the quote with which he ends his weekly column.
this week was no exception. it made me laugh and it gave me a different perspective on how poetry, mine and in general, is greeted today.
" The person who writes for fools is always sure of a larger audience."
- Arthur Schopenhauer

A typical day

maybe i stirred the stew
and thought of you
in a mundane meandering way
and looked out of the window
remarked on the passionate day
maybe i pottered about a bit
straightened some cushions
fished out the sewing kit
sat down to embroider
or macramé
or knit
gave them all up to
just sit
to sip wine and
look at old snapshots
play ancient tapes
smoke some pot
maybe i walked bare feet
in the grass
toes curling against the sensation
of the sharp and wet
maybe a whole lot of time
passed
and i know not how
the day you left me
at last.

Animal

is that guilt i wonder
when you smile
and exclaim at how
old you feel
and carefully not hug me
while your new bride
has no such qualms
can you perhaps see
the shattered lil girl in me
kissed with fetid lips
and touched in secret places
in her secret places
that child who came to you
feathers in her hand
gentle trusting
and you used her
against her
used feathered fingers
to touch
her
i remember the smell
that being that felt
rubbery
unyielding
to the little fingers
my little fingers
that held it
the game we were playing
voices muffled
parents in the next room
a child i was
a child
and you put your fingers
in me
made me grow up
now i know
what you did
it has a name
i hate hide and seek.

After…..

a grown woman
i do not bear scars
or trauma
of what you did
and yet i search
feverishly
through all
the news
of abuse
that speak of
a stolen childhood.