My Body, a City
My eyes, its cantonments.
In them the eternal vigilance of observing sentries.
A railway station between my ears
There the unceasing tumult of crowds
That wait for a mate or a prey
and fall asleep, tired:
folks who always miss their trains,
orphaned thoughts gone astray,
memories lost between the chiming of bells
and the whistles of the wagons,
fire-filled dreams that pant and wait
for their green signals.
My veins are rivers, noisy with anklets,
The four chambers of my heart:
How shall I describe
In this city are the cries of birth
Text © 1995, 1999 by K. Satchidanandan
"My Body, a City" first appeared in Many Mountains Moving, Volume 1, Number 3. The work appears here by permission of the author.
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