Your old man
came into the lounge
where you were watching
black and white TV

and your mother was standing
talking to an uncle
it’s the baker
your old man said

he wants his £50
what £50?
your mother asked
the £50 I owe him

well pay him
your mother said
I can’t
I don’t have it

you watched
the cowboy film
with half interest
you took a glance

at the debtor
well tell him
you’ll pay him
next week

your mother said
I told him that
last week
your old man said

what did you want
to borrow £50  
from the baker for?
your mother asked

her cheeks getting flushed
to buy my new suit
what new suit?
the one I’m having made

you noticed
your old man’s
moustache flicker
and he stroked it

as he did
when cornered
your mother
breathed heavy

and you looked
at the uncle
ok
the uncle said

here’s the £50  
go pay him
what you owe
to get him off your back

but you better pay me back
or I’ll bust your head
sure I will
your old man said

going out of the room
clutching the money
in his palm
your mother sighed

and the uncle
put away his wallet
into an inside pocket
and you saw that one

of the cowboys
on the black and white
TV screen
had been shot

and died
the other looked angry
and ugly
and mean.

I used to play Holi
I remember when my mum painted my moustache in my sleep and I woke up laughing,
starting like this, ending with fun and tons of laughter and memories!!
Those days were good and stress-free!
Then with childhood, my affection for holy ended.

By the way happy Holi to all !!

Under a sea of flat skies,
eyes ablaze. Rage.
A common same.
Defence of a revolution,
scream.

Photographers are just vehicles.

A moustache ,
a hand gun,
a man clad in green.
“I'm not flat, I am laughing”
Reactionary chic.
A Confrontation.
A throw of the dice.
Please God :
our father, a common name.

**** the lights.
Save the tank corpse.
A dictator,
“lower your head when you gulp”
A pitiful heart.
No rest for the wicked
in a political game.

Photographers are just vehicles.

A commercial traveller,
a moustache,
a hand gun.
*******. Defending
the revolution.
Old , young and new.
“I'm not flat ,
I am laughing.”
God: our father,
please.

Under a sea of flat skies,
where life expires
and lies overwhelm the good,
a game is lost.
The dice are thrown.
All can hear


that  universal sigh,
*my name is might have been.

To Jody;
My five years old friend and nephew

I put down the telephone,
entering a nap of elation,
till the echo of your sweet utterance
On the back of expatriation's wind
Swims away, dims.
By then, medusas of melancholy with their thick sorrow
fill up my throat
and my heart
would blindfolded fall on the knees and
die down…

With good and bad big wolves
tracing lost children or stuffing shaking goat kids into their paunch.
With ravenous bears, malignant hyenas
and crude giants,
garrulous  gracious squirrels, laborious ants
and active voracious hares.
With them, the two of us
had upholstered the land and sky of the wonderland,
and with their voices and whoops all,
we had irritated the dreamland's walls.

No matter how many times
we were building the villages for stories of straw, furze sticks and bricks,
I would only visit your house of mattresses and pillows.

Only for you,
I did revived the dead wolf
in order to revenge the "predatory" lumberjack.
With no regret I kept sending "wolfy" to the roasted chicken's shop
to defeat the hunger,
So that he won't eat the trapped little girl.
And before your smile,
the wolf in walrus moustache would play with the girl till daddy comes and takes her home.

And you are …
popping out, never closing the wide eyes of yours,
waiting for grandpa to take us to the village.
Up from the houses' roofs,
with Qarmeetlak's1 rabbits,
beyond the barbwires and in secret,
we stick the tongues out to the Turkish barracks.
Along with goat kids,
in tracking smugglers' traces,
we fool the landmines,
sneak to the other side of the border.
With smiley faces and hidden bleats,
We ****** the poppies and the grass that grow out from the edges of spring and the craters.
We hide from smuggler's ghosts who
in the  labyrinths of landmines
because of the unclaimed hands and legs are grabbing the collars.
We taunt the jackals' yowling and the patrolmen.
And in front of the rumbling sky, we do our best to look prettier;
Isn't  it "God taking photos of us"?
And like coward puppies we flee and go back to the safe village,
just before the dusk's winds could carry our smell to the angry spirit of Salan2
who is scouring the Kurmanj's Mountain3,
pursuing his endless vengeances.

Till the break of day,
with your slim clever squirreliness,
out of the branches of the most interlocked sorrowful stories,
you were shaking the attached laughs and guffaws
on the  hair of the deceiver Ashrafieh and the grumpy Sheikh Maksood's4 night.
Eventually, in taking its revenge,
the night would stuff you in a small basket and throw you away into the waves of sleep and dream
accompanied with all that eager to see the giants' kingdom and the mice's storehouses,
squirrels' village, their dances and bridals,
the departure will lead you to the waterfalls' cliffs of a dreamy sparrow's new day.
With the beaming love out from our eyes,
you dry up your tousled feathers and
take into the open.

Nevertheless, how simple-hearted the lies were when I kept telling you:
"Dog is a dog, a wolf is a wolf and the kitty is a kitty, and what are we, my Jody?
We are humans!"

I didn't want you to know
how in the world, could a dozen of
rabid armed dogs
smash down the door
and out from your eleven months old eyes,
with a persistent thronged barking,
they did take your dad away to the deepest liars of the ranch of malevolence,
introducing him to all kinds of animality.

How might I explained to you
why in the world, they reduced 'dad' for you
to that thing which every month
from behind a doubled bars
keep sending you a tearful laugh?
Why did they minimized the ancient capital for you into
both of the Political Security Branch and Siednaya's Jail5?

Your fingers had just started taking to writing and drawing.
You had just started
cantering your own stories
along with unsaddled breezes' foals
when herds of jackals with dark mouths
deported 'your Azad' into a fool refuge.
Again,
they
made
you
an orphan.

Inside the brushwood of the story and the wilderness of the epic,
since neither your fingers have become able to rise the sign of victory correctly,
nor could your throat match the letters of 'Kurdistan' properly,
whatever cave you step in,
no matter how shiny is the globe in the witch's hands,
she would never be able to tell you,
these lacrimatory mist and clouds,
with the emerging of every spring,
from which valleys of the ranch of malevolence  
did they come to overflow the Kurdish neighborhoods.
How did they vilely with no permission go up to the third floor
in order to join you in a poisoned feverish soiree.
And since when
the creatures of darkness
that they had brought
have been grazing their hyenas
among our fresh hopes.


Hence…
when I tell you that
I'll come back with the snowfall,
it is nothing but a lie!
When you ask me to come back in summer
in order to hang on my back
and swim together
along with the little fishes,
such an imagination!
When you are not sleeping in my empty bed anymore
Intending to let my pillow and blanket await for
my return,
only a childish dream!!
Yet, when you
in the sweet and soft Afrini accent of yours
say to me
'Ozod, I mithed you thoo thoo thoo much',
my heart
would blindfolded fall on the knees and
die down…

Azad Ekkaş
Roni_alend@outlook.com
Erbil: 3-1-2011

A hair fell from my eyebrow
and landed in my eye,
it caused my eye to water
just like when you cry.

I cleaned it with my finger
which made this small hair slip
it landed underneath my nose,
just above my lip.

I hadn't noticed where it went
it lay there on my face,
and over time it rooted
and then multiplied this place.

I started scratching at the spot,
I thought I had a rash
but when I looked more closely
I found I had a moustache.

It was as I point out to you
protruding out of the skin
and spread out over many days
and now its on my chin.

I know I didn't have a rash
and it was as I feared
I never only had moustache,
now I had a beard.

This spreading still continues
and I don't think that it's fair
for from my head to toenail
I am now covered in hair.

I've tried so hard to cut it off
and every time I fail
but what is really worrying
is now I have a tail.

So if you see a hair that's loose
and resting on your face
I do suggest you take it off
before it grows some place.

Cause when this hair gets rooted
you see how it can take over
and it is so embarrassing
when people call you Rover.

I don't know what is happening
but when I'm in the park,
I run around, I lick my nuts,
I growl and I bark.

Sitting on that Bowery curb,
Jackie Coogan,
Years shy of Uncle Festus and
The Addams Family,
Clasping his hands on one knee,
Wearing blue denim overalls &
A raggedy, red
Turtleneck sweater,
Jackie: the kid in "The Kid."
And Charlie’s inimitable face,
Inhaling his ****** moustache.
Nobody squeezed more out of a
****** expression than Charlie,
Back in the day when
Actors told their stories physically.
The Silent Era:
A Marcel Marceau world back then,
Economical when it came to words.

I met a guy and I instantly liked him
He was tall, good looking and imperially slim
His moustache dragged sideways to his cheek
He talked quietly and was infinitely meek

The next day, I went to see him at work
I learnt he had never been there
I thought it was a simple case of bad luck
He had probably meant elsewhere

I set out for his home to find
It was a cute, little bungalow
I saw a little girl peep from behind;
A pretty lady looked through the window

I stood on the empty threshold
Staggering my way out of this jam
Me? When had I gotten to be so bold?
I was now practically "the other woman".

your moustache is ******* disgusting. do us all a favor and get rid of that ****

2. your “I don’t date” **** gets old really quickly. you’re not “avant garde”, you’re just a ***** who hides his feelings. good luck with that in the future.
3. *** is not an obligation. my body is not a commodity. I do not owe you a *******. my lips are sacred, my tongue is a queen, my ***** is a ******* throne. your peasent ***, is not near worthy

4. you can not buy happiness. unfortunately your daddy taught you at a young age that a new car can fix any problem. unlike you, when I’m 40, ill be earning just enough to get by, but won’t need gin to fill the gaping hole which your money can’t fill

5. karma, is a *****. in fact, karma is the biggest ***** you will ever meet. 

6. I am not weak because of my depression. I am not weak because of my sobriety. in fact, my sobriety is the reason my depression is gone, it is the reason my wrists are clean, it is the reason the train tracks I had on my arms have faded to a weird looking tan line.

7. I loved you. 

8. loved. past tense.
9. I thank you. you have rid me of darkness. you have emptied me of hate. you have filled me with nothing but the sweet, sweet taste on my tongue from cursing your name.

10. you will never, find anyone who will treat you as good as I did. I opened my fists for you. I let the flies that were lodged between my fingers free. I made you laugh. *******, did I make you laugh. 
11. you made Chicago my favorite city. the wind whispers your name at every moment and I’m forever reminded of the person I left behind. 

12. I memorized your lips like the keyboard I type on.

I’m forever wondering if you bothered to memorize mine.

Hunter was happy
The rain was now done
He could go out in the yard
And have some real fun

Staying inside
when there was so much to do
He had to go hunting
For his movable zoo

Hunter like letters
And numbers and things
He also likes dreaming
and the joy that it brings

He pulled out his toy box
And he dragged it outside
I'm going to go hunting
He put his hat on with pride

An old hunting helmet
And one wellington boot
A runner, his jacket
And a toy gun to shoot

I'm off to go hunting
I'll will fill a whole zoo
Just call me for dinner
And with that...he was through

A boy's mind is special
They can imagine the world
Is a magical jungle
That to them is unfurled

A zoo from a toy box
All in order....you'll see
He would fill up his zoo
From A back to Z

First came an aardvark
Then a ******, all stuffed
Then a cheetah, a donkey
All cuddly and puffed

E made him think
Yep...an earwig or two
It fit with the letters
And it would go in his zoo

F was a frog,
Made of rubber and green
G ...a gorilla
With a smile, not mean

H was a horse
with a cowboy as well
The zoo, it was growing
And to him, that was swell

I....had him thinking
It's my zoo after all
So, if I can't get a letter
It won't matter at all

J was a jacks game
Not an animal too
But, the jacks looked like spiders
And this was Hunters zoo

K...that was easy
A Kangaroo with a pouch
L was a llama
With three legs and a slouch

M was a monkey
A whole barrel he had
He played with these some
He wasn't doing half bad

In all of an hour
He had collected a herd
Of stuffed toys, ***** and jacks
And he still had no bird

N was a nerf ball
Or a dinosaur egg
It could be what he wanted
He'd now found that fourth leg

The llama assembled
O was easy for him
An octopus floaty
That taught him to swim

P was a parrot
With feathers all red
Q...that's a tough one
He thought to himself in his head

R was a rhino
With no horn, it was broke
S was a snake
His dad bought as a joke

T was a tough one
A terra-dac-til said he
Not knowing the spelling
And that it started with P

U ...under water
so he found a stuffed fish
This was not all that easy
V...well tosh tish

I'll catch two of another
If I can't think of one
Hunting out in the yard
Is really quite fun

W...a walrus
with a moustache and tusks
Like the gorilla before
made of coconut husks

X...was a tough one
Another dinosaur came
Made from his xylophone
And this dino was tame

Y was a yak
He didn't know what it was
But, he just liked the name
So, a yak ....just because

Z was a zebra
blue and black with no white
He'd colored it in with a marker
When he got bored one night

He'd been out for a while
When he heard his mum yell
Time to come in
Bring your toy box as well

All through his dinner
He told of what he had caught
Of the alphabetic adventures
And the creatures he'd got

He watched tv for a while
Then it was bath time and bed
Where Hunter the hunter
Now had a full head

Now, he was dreaming
Of all he must do
This was Hunter the hunter
And his movable zoo

What the hell has happened to the adverts on our TV screens?
When Our teeth shined with Sensodine, Colgate and Mccleans
Kinder made surprising eggs and Heinz Meanz tinned Baked Beans
Fairy Liquid lasted longer, houses cleaned with Mr Sheens
Daz Automatic, Surf and Ariel washed clothes in our machines
Which brings me to that buff hunky guy washing Levi jeans

Winalot and Pedagree where good food for our dogs
Robinson's Jam old icon was mascot Golly wogs
Fudge fingers where just enough to give our kids a treat
Not even a Black Hole could eat three Shredded Wheat
Gillette was the best shave, that a man could get
Happiness was achieved, with a cigar called Hamlet
Surfing was the mark of a man, the fragrance of Old Spice
Brut had an unbeatable smell even Henry Cooper smelt quite nice
You know when where Tangoed when your slapped in the chop
Magic begun when we heard the fun of Snap Crackle and Pop
"Hey I'd love a Babycham" in that cool smooth cocktail pub
Biscuits had a lot of chocolate when you joined their Club
The Honey Monster told his mummy to tell us about the Honey
Taking it easy with a Caramel from that **** Cadburys Bunny
Leonard Rossiter and Joan Collins had Cinzano on a plane
The secret lemonade drinker sneaked downstairs for R Whites again
If you know what's good for you, you would eat Weetabix
Chimpanzees did all kinds things for the taste of PG tips
Turkish Delight had eastern promise her hair he had to stroke
You where in love for the very first time when you drank a Coke
If you had a Mars a day we where helped to work, rest and play
A secret agent risked everything because the lady loved Milk Tray

The quest of a silent messenger in case you had forgot
Seeking for the timeless taste of the larger of Lamot
Carling had the three in one with the cowboy in the west
From love songs to soap powder Black Label was the best
Searching for Fly Fishing  J R Hartley got downhearted
Good old Yellow Pages is where he should have started
Garath Hunt had Nescafe he shook the coffee bean
With Una Stubbs and Sarah Green and even Diane Keen
The cute Kid with the glasses he was strong and tough
The Milky Bars are on him, the best where good enough

What do we get on our screens in our modern time
All of the ads are terrible their broadcast is a crime
All you are providing is the same old ******* grime
Ramming the same thing down our throat like an hourly chime
Its the same as TV programming there's nothing that is prime
With all the cheap reality shows there boring and just slime

What is it with the crap Go Compare to many in this set
The PPI's and Clear Score there all a public social threat
Too many online Bingo sites it seems they took all they could get
All these loans and gambling its no wonder people are in debt

Cillit Bang it sounded good when used by Barry Scott
Boy that stuff can't really work cos he had a ****** lot
I don't think it was all that good and not so very hot
If its in the cheep shop I may give it a small shot

The Gtech cordless vacuum it simply has no class
With its 40 minuet run time I think id rather pass
It doesn't seem that powerful I know this may seem harsh
Break free from the Gtech Air Ram and ram it up your ****

And all those crap insurance ads I really do despair
Especially that ******* opera singer singing Go Compare
With his stupid ****** false moustache, Tuxedo and black hair
Get rid of this obnoxious guy and nobody cares where

All those ****** ******* adverts they have on nowadays
nothing like the larger ads or the man with the milk trays.
all you get is insurance ads none of which that pays
or loans that you don't ******* want or any of their strays

Get rid of all these ****** ads put them on the shelf
I don't mean to appear arrogant, I could do better myself
Stop melting our minds, we cant shield our minds in stealth
To many poor folks sat at home with messed up mental health
All you execs make millions your only interested in wealth
And reinstate some proper ads stop thinking of yourself

So bring back all the old ads they where more amusing
Inventive and informative more things for the choosing
Not like they are today all boring, some confusing
Monotonous and self obsessed you only end up snoozing
Always going with the flow with all the same ads cruising
Come on all you ad execs its the public that your losing

My old man
was always
neat and tidy.  

Brylcreemed hair
(what was left),
smart suit,
shiny shoes,
brown brogues,
well trimmed moustache,
staring eyes.

Get your best shirt
and trousers on,
we're going to see
this new Jeff Chandler film,
Western, and put on
that bow-tie I bought you
and make sure
your shoes are shiny,
he said.

I went and got changed
and put on the bow-tie
he bought(how I hated
that thing) and shoes
buffed to a shine of sorts,
short trousers,
the next to best,
and I was ready,
kissing mother
on the way out.

We went in the cinema
a 1/3 of the way through
the first feature,
sat in the seats,
his eyes fixed
on the screen,
I looking around
to see who was in
and who was who.  

I looked at him
beside me;
the neat moustache,
well trimmed,
the eyes watching
the screen,
a cigarette between lips,
smoke rising.

I recalled the time
at another cinema,
another film,
another Western,
and we were ¾
the way through,
when he ups
and leaves
in a sudden rush.

I watched the screen
and chewed the popcorn,
thinking the old man
had gone to the bog,
an adult thing
or so I thought.

Then 5 minutes after
a young usherette
came and found me
and said:
your father's with the medics
in the foyer,
he had a choking fit.

Poor guy,
I thought,
him sat there
blue and white,
not having had a ****.

Back then at school,
We had life-skills-
Every week we would be taught, the girls,
Handicrafts by a gentle, lady-like woman.
They taught us macramé, well after it went out of style.
How to unravel and tie-up spools and spools of thread-
Into fancy knots and whirls.
You could hang it on your ceiling
Just beneath the fan, or over your bed.

Then there was the letter box,
Made out of cardboard and wrapping paper.
But not to hang outside, of course.
The glue would dissolve in the rain water.
And the letters would all cry out in jets of blue ink.

Speaking of ink, we made a miniscule brush
Out of old, old pens
And human hair.
It measured about four inches
And you could clean the ridges between tiles
With it,
or brush your moustache
if you had one.
The class was always there
You couldn’t skip it, miss it or play truant.
Life-skills, you will need them when you grow
And you’ll thank me when you flaunt-
Them to your cynical mothers- in-law.

Nipuni Ranaweera

I was in a red phone booth
in Rockingham Street
looking for coins left behind
in the little cups
in the phone machine

my old man knocked
on the glass window
of the booth

I looked at him standing there
his deep set eyes
his Errol Flynn moustache
I came out of the booth
and let the door shut
behind me

what are you
doing in there?
he asked

looking for coins
left behind
I said

were there any?

no none at all

he nodded
and looked in the booth
shame
sometimes punters do
he said

I looked at him
he had a hollow look
about him
sunken cheeks

just as well
it was me
and not your mother
who saw you in there
he said

yes guess so
I said

well got to go to work
he said
how about
going to see a film
this weekend?

sure be good
I said

John Wayne film

cowboy film?

no war movie
Pork Chop Hill
I think it's called
he said

ok be good
I said

he nodded and left
I watched him go
and out of sight

I opened my hand
and looked at the coins
I found in the cup
of the phone machine

I pocketed them
and walked to Baldy's shop
and bought
some bubblegum
and a drink of pop
and walked back to the flat

I ought to have shown
my old man the coins
but I didn't
and that was that.

There’s a shiny tree, in a shiny island, upon the shiny sea,

That looks upon the horizon with smiling leaves,

Creatures dwell there strange and weird,

Some with a moustache and some with a beard!

Some with green eyes, some with lots of lice,

Some foolish and some smart,

But two of them, pure of heart!



One is a butterfly with wings so bright,

yellow at day and blue at night,

she does not fly, just dances and skates,

coz her wings can’t hold so much weight!

She loves to eat and talk and laugh,

and care about her friends on her own behalf!



The other is a Grasshopper, that hops and hops,

every single day, till his heart nearly pops,

he is wise and strong, with a solid frame,

he knows it all, he knows all the same,

that everything has a end, and most of it is just a game



Both these creatures are really good friends,

Sometimes they eat on the butterfly’s demand,

And sometimes they hop on the hopper’s command

But never they fight and never abscond,

If one is in trouble, the other appears,

To help and to fill their hearts with cheers



The butterfly trips, when she loses fear and knows no bounds,

And turns into a bird, free and singing with lovely sounds,

But her brains reduce to mere a lump of clay,

And hopper has to guard her, lest she flies away



And the hopper, is not without a weakness, just like our princess,

He loses control over his heart and mind, sometimes obsessed and sometimes possessed!

The butterfly tells him to take it easy and not get so dizzy,

Hopping is not a business, it is just a silly recess!



The story has just begun and this is a prelude,

Wait and see what happens of the butterfly chick and the grasshopper dude!

He walked full of class
Pinky never touched glass.
Sharp in the thread
Stiff lip and moustache.

When angry he turned red
His taunts filled clients with dread.
Even his wife wasn’t at ease
When Mr. Gada was raising dead.

His day started with grease
In his hair, and pressed every crease.
Next the pills glazed his eyes
And dampened his seize.

The cheat hid many lies
A past life was no surprise.
He told her he was focused
He talked with clever disguise.

He worked to fill his lust
But late nights made the Mrs. mistrust.
If she said a word his blood would steam
She lay silent, wishing to feel just.

But karma came to ream
His ugly and immoral scheme.
He let business mix with pleasure
Trips to Spain made his dream.

The mistresses husband saw her
And came charging in full measure.
Took a knife to the cheaters cheat
In a jab he lost his treasure.

Spain’s doctors laughed at his meat
Fixing would be too much a feat.
Mr. Gada sobbed and cried
When his wife threw him out on the street.

Donald has a comb-over.
******, a funny moustache.
Hair Donald?
Heil ******!

L'ascenseur descendait toujours à perdre
Haleine
Et l'escalier montait toujours
Cette dame n'entend pas les discours
Elle est postiche
Moi qui déjà songeais à lui parler d'amour
Oh le commis
Si comique avec sa moustache et ses sourcils
Artificiels
Il a crié quand je les ai tirés
Étrange
Qu'ai-je vu Cette noble étrangère
Monsieur je ne suis pas une femme légère
Hou la laide
Par bonheur nous
Avons des valises en peau de porc
À toute épreuve
Celle-ci
Vingt dollars
Elle en contient mille
C'est toujours le même système
Pas de mesure
Ni de logique
Mauvais thème.

KISSING MR. CHELIDON GOODBYE

**...**.  . .oh!
I don't know

if I should be
telling you this.

I was just sweet
as in 16 &

never been kissed
and my *******

hadn't yet arrived
though I prayed and prayed

to a God who did not
heed my girlish plea.

All the girls in my year
had already budded.

******* to the right of me!
Breast to the left of me!

Into the valley of despair
I rode my Raleigh

alas alas
breast-less!

I practiced kissing
by kissing

the you know
inside of
( the whatchamacallit? )

my elbow the
chelidon so called

by an old falling-apart
medical dictionary.

I clipped some hair
from our Yorkshire terrier

stuck it on the crick of
my right elbow

so that it became
my first moustache'd kiss.

And so, was born
my Mr. Chelidon.

Pathetic...yes...I know
but the year after

my bosoms arrived
with a suddenness

that took my breath
away.

I breasting the waves
like a ship's figurehead

as I dived into the sea
a Venus for boys to see.

I was my *******
and my ******* were me.

Somehow I could then not
stopped being kissed.

And once kissed
grew addicted to it.

The bliss of the kiss.
I was my own drug.

I gave Mr. Chelidon
the elbow.

Discovered the joy of boys
inventing various uses

for them
as they

discovered
me.

Your father has paid
Good money for the
Artist. Sit very still,

Deepta, the man needs
You not to fidget, he
Says, placing his hairy

Hands on your shoulder.
Why must women move
So? Is stillness alien to

Your nature? You thought
He was going to laugh or
Smile but he does not; his

Lips disappear into his huge
Moustache and beard. The
Artist moves you to the left

Slightly, his small hands
Moulding you to the position
He requires, his eyes studying

You, dark brown, you notice,
The thin moustache thinly
Grown. Your father stands

Where he can see you. He  
Folds his arms and stands
Stiffly. The artist seems

Nervous, he fiddles with
His charcoal, his fingers as
A dancer warming up before

The dance, his eyes moving
Over you as if his mind has
Already taken you in, has

Swallowed you in a huge
Gulp. Father nods, then rather
Slowly leaves the room, his

Hairy hands behind his back,
His fingers crossed. You
Breathe easy; the artist blows

Out air, his anxiety away, he
Smiles at you. Men often smile
At you, it is their way of

Capturing your image for
Their sleepless nights, for
Their empty lives, replacing

Your beauty for the dullness
And ugliness of their wives.

In a Somerville coffeeshop, waiting for his single origin light roasted Pour over,

Frankenstein reads a philosophy magezine, seductively planted by the lounging area.

"One lives two lives."
The magezine reads,  
"That which one spends in their physical body,
and that which begins the moment one leaves that body,
lasting until all witness to ones first life has spoken its final word".

The baristas eyes widen when he sees Frankenstein,
The barista says nothing.
He knows better than to raise the dead.
Frankenstein is often confused
for his monster.

Condensation rises between crocheted mittens, Frankenstein Lingers on the Cherry notes in his Coffee, while it combs icicles into his snow white mustache.

He likes this new version of an afterlife. It empowers him to take advantage of the time he has now, to make his second life last as long as possible.
He's in the middle of this thought
When his face slams against ***** snowbank.
Dog **** mixing into the icicles of his moustache.
A familiar mob of torches and pitchforks only see the monster.
They take turns kicking.
Kicking
Frankenstein wakes to a lynching.

When he lives
He is not a monster.

It will soon be morning
Amma walks the backyard
Collecting flowers
The best for the Goddess
Who does nothing but sit
At her ivory throne
Sweets and diyas around
Her face with a pasted smile
I have so wished to wipe out.

Appa's snore shake the walls
I imagine his moustache
Shivering under the onslaught
Before he's off to the stores
He would want his breakfast
With Anna on his right side
Telling Appa all about school
And his stagnant progress
While Appa nods and laughs.

And after they would leave
I will then open my books
Where wonders of world hide...
Till then, I make breakfast.

That year
in Paris

you took
Dostoyevsky’s novel

Crime and Punishment
to read when

you weren’t touring
the sites

and you became
so immersed in the book

that you became
Raskolnikov

and killed
the old woman

and her half sister
and looked about the streets

you looked for the detective
Porfiry whom you suspected

was following you about
and as you sat

in the Champs-Elysées
or stood by

the Arc de Triomphe
you thought of all

the famous
who had stayed here

in this fine city
Henry Miller

Ezra Pound
Hemmingway

Debussy
Van Gogh

and that fanatical
conqueror ******

with his sick smile
under that

silly moustache
and that evening

your brother
in the hotel room

puked in the bidet
after sour wine

or too rich food
as you looked out

the window on
the Parisian street

to see if Porfiry
was out there

waiting for you
to charge you

with the murderous crime
you didn’t do.