CHAITALI GAWADE - POEMS

 
Chaitali Gawade's writerly musings are fuelled by tea and coffee. Her work has been published by  Unbroken Journal, Duckbill Anthology and Vagabondage Press, among others. She blogs at chaitaligawade.com
 

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                       Construction


I peel layers of earth,
lay pipes big enough
for the canal to turn course
as the sun breaks out,
harsh cries of crows pierce
the sky.
Tyres whir
vehicles rush by.
It's time for lunch when
the sun rides above me.
I sit under a tamarind tree,
it does all it can to offer solace
through its sparse leaves.
Puddles from yesterday's rain
keep me company as I eat
curd rice from a tin plate.
Some distance ahead 
a street dog rummages through
a large garbage dump
searching for lunch.
Finding none he moves on to
newer kingdoms.
My tattered purple saree
hangs from a sturdy branch,
a temporary cradle
for my baby girl, her
face towards the sky.
 

  
                             Existence 


I am caged in words
that soothe me,
peel onion layers
of blackened bruises
from my orphaned skies.
Their sound rushes
to embrace my
well used soul,
they jump at me
like monkeys on rail tracks.
My flowers are drenched in letters
raining words into my existence.

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                              Unseasonal


Bulbuls in pairs on lamp-posts,
drenched in sudden
summer rain.