out of nowhere they appear -
the garba dancers -
around october, around dussehra.
like slugs made sometime may
or frogs, that incarnate in monsoon
that you guess rode a raindrop
& fell from the sky. the dancers
are dressed in gold red black white
standing under the stars
in constellation-politics, switching
alliances but with finity, partners
reunite before the song ends -
the dandiya sticks clap tap & kiss
in rhythm, the girls they smile
in dance like nowhere else, the boys
feel like torchlight-discovered attic dust
just like the stars that are just
unveiled now, otherwise cityfog-hid
in a distance, the shapes in them
are myths, their power divided by zero -
imagining - if stars twinkled at heartbeat
how bright would it be and then how dark.
~Ajay
15/9/2019
YOU ARE READING
bliss station ~ poetry
Poetry~ where is your bliss station / you have to try to find it ~
