The answer in your eyes hangs in suspense
like the undisclosed results of pregnancy tests.
I wait as an unaborted fetus floating in the amniotic night
of unawareness. I feel the pastiness of the situation
in the glair of an egg the shell is broken
here the shell is an image of my faith.
I must learn to see what is so clear
to so many others but not to my unborn faculties
which is dumb by design in the silver trappings
of your esteemed espousal of my unprepared proposal
and keeps parroting what you want to hear
over and over.
Somewhere in a cold storage
I was a codd-neck bottle of Soda,
my consciousness crushed,
compressed, chilled, capped.
Foggy clots filled the veins,
the heart was in hibernation,
the beats standstill, a glass marble
trapped in the thin throat.
And then with a warm touch you
opened me up for the first time
and kissed salt into my mouth,
sprinkling seeds of life into me
and the dormant effervescence
gushed out through my neck
like a fountain of lava,
like an abrupt ejaculation.
Debasis Tripathy does a regular desk job for an IT Company in Bangalore. Sometimes he writes – poems and short fiction. His work has been featured in Turnpike, Adelaide Magazine, Kitaab , Punch Magazine & elsewhere.
About the illustrator: Mike Knowles has spent over 40 years working mainly in comics, along with TV, Radio, animation and gonzo-style journalism for a “top-of-the-shelf” magazine, along with odd spells as a digital artist. Finally, there were the three gruesome years writing gags for comedians (even though they begged him not to. But what did they know about humor), in which he was cruelly subjected to the thick nicotine-laden cloud of cigarette smoke that permeated the working men’s clubs.