Sunday Poem By Jayeeta Bhattacharya

Alone at home

Whenever alone
Repertoire begins;
Anecdotes ……
Fabulist onrush
Of ambivalent
Graphics of death
Of life invincible
Scary bulbous misshapen!
Death invokes into the
Fluidity of my veins
Life so menacing so acute
To the vibrant faculty of
Death……
The dead partakes my zest
So emphatic corpulance
Of the felicity of death
Calls on,
I cannot avoid him
The walls all white with
Contour nuance of life,
muted by the straddles
Of the other side of life.
I feel concupiscence at the
Spare and supple touch of
Death!
My sagging present tense
Live astride of
Both the coasts of horizon
My friends and loved ones
Long dead
Make a coccophany of ochre
I watch the revelations
Aesthetic works on them
The time alone at my nest
Raptures life
I still feel so scared of life
The call of death
Sumptuous and painterly
So tranquil an invitation
I fear I must leave this attire,
This musk of life
Long dead as I am……
When I live alone
The death calls me back
Alone I am not with “Him”
The magnificent phallus
Pulls me into a sea of
orgasm
Frenzied as I am
With the tableaux of
morbidity
Alone I dive into the amplitude
Of death.
I live into past
I live into future
I leave off my presence…
Alone into a
Dark sea