Day 11

day 11-a poem from your favourite poet

Though there maybe a list of favourites from Malayalam to Sri Lankan, Singaporean to the world over, Meena Kandasamy's poetry takes a strong hold with feminisim and heavy myths flowing graciously impudent. I like that.
A favourite this is.

Amnesia, Selective

When memory decides
to no longer bear the burdens-
of pain, or even plain indifference
she had her winsome wicked ways

some day, years later,
life required you to unearth
some event long past and you
set about browsing your brain
life a desk full of office files and then-
come across a resounding emptiness

memories drizzle- fragile
are not to found. What
greets you instead, through
these yellowing sheets of typed matter is
the blank and ugly blotches of dried whitener
so carefully applied, then. It had a fading smell
of chalk and chlorine: a blend, ike memory, that works at
your throat. You try to scratch it and the faintest hopes are
betrayed as the caked pieces of the whitener crumble,
displaying nothing, but toe curling holes where crummy paper and ink once contained
you.