Maut/Moth*

by Sanam Sheriff
 

 

1.

Grandfather clock hands,

Winter in his hair, 

A watch, a tie, a silverware smile. 

Veins like rivers on a map, 

Skin like crumpled paper

- All still alive.

 

2.

Screams from his bedroom,

Broken glass on the floor. 

Panicked, helpless eyes, 

The way they flicker 

Like a moth towards the light. 

 

3.

I watch from the back of an ambulance 

As they hover over him- vultures. 

Road, red-yellow-green, road,

The van rocking like a carousel horse 

Too many rides away from home.

 

4.

White walls, white sheets, white noise-

The opposite of a wedding gown, 

Tubes like rivers on a map, 

Machines, men, masks,

A mountain on the bed-

Still, still, still breathing. 

 

5.

Orchids. 

A crowd dressed like crows,

Prayer, screams, tears- 

All falling on lost ears.

Loss- not of a key or a game,

But of the way his grandfather clock hands 

Would jetplane to catch me 

As I called his name. 

* "Maut" is the word for death in Hindi