Wraith of routes taken and some not
now more meaningful than ever
flash during paronymous spells.
While plying, alleys were ordinary.
Smooth for some, not so for the strabismical.
Absences have turned them into ornaments.
In our tender years while this rabbit foozled
you were steady. It comes easy to some.
Whiners take to words.
I remember gab sessions with God.
These were negotiations. Lord, if you
claim my chimeras, summum bonum!
Over the years my nightmares,
notions of goodness naturalized.
Transmutation of godhood began.
God grows with us.
Some wed their Maker.
Others jive with the Jotun.
“Ask mummy” was her most erudite statement
gushed at the apogee of her professional graph.
Pronounced voluptuosity, doings of her tongue:
she had moxie to own the marquee. Filmic dial-
ogues apart she spoke little. On camera her eyes
connected. They blew the gaff on her bitterness,
she hid the grisly parts in her heart. It couldn’t
carry the weight of worries.
on murder of
the television anchor:
I do not have children
just two niblings
who I love deeply.
When I heard
the police brief,
I broke down.
a mother of three
at the camera.
Sanjeev Sethi is the author of three books of poetry. His most recent collection is This Summer and That Summer (Bloomsbury, 2015). A Best of the Net 2017 nominee, his poems are in venues around the world: The Broadkill Review, After the Pause, The Piker Press, Stickman Review, Neologism Poetry Journal, Olentangy Review, Home Planet News, Cholla Needles, Morphrog 16, The Journal, Ink Sweat & Tears, Bold Monkey, and elsewhere. He lives in Mumbai, India.