Politics of Avoidance

He met them.

It wasn’t nice.

No ‘nice to meet you mate’,

because there wasn’t a first date

For him to be honest, 

for them to interrogate.

He knew what he wanted: 

the idea of them always existed—

existed long before them.

The glow in their eyes

leave no question nor enquire,

Greenish is their statement 

He stands firmly and testify.

Their eyes have seen it all,

theirs can teach a village (outpass the law).

Their eyes exhausted:

they have seen it all

Except his love.

That, they haven’t sought. 

They stare, they fixate

At the surroundings, the vague

He goes on (attempts to flare)

But they don’t care - surely it’s just late? 

Indifference turns into renaissance 

croissants: the surprise, not the coincidence

At dawn he’s ruminated it all

a French breakfast might help after all, 

Cheriel!– he awaits until they’ve woken up.

It is not idolatry

if its roots are a prophecy,

If their  body commands

well his body responds:

theirs is a temple (their forearms, the extension). 

He believes in them 

in it, unerratically 

Their ego attracts physicality 

He finds himself breathless, sporadically.

The grass keeps the secret, their privacy.

Fairytales drop from his voice? 

It’s just an idea– they claim with no choice.

For the naive ideating with joy,

While the master confuses with rejoice.

‘Surrender your wisdom to the rest’

He wishes they can come to such terms. 

He’s emigrated from past,

no runways to land in a future. 

They feel that, when extending their arms,

So they crawl him (vulnerable creature).

Hugging back the present

he touches their hands,

they hum for a love,

a love made of solitude and nothing else.

The coldness picks the train 

brings on board all of their blames

they are gone, London in rain, 

He’s got the tears, this city isn’t fair.

As the carriage holds their luggage

Packed with plans that are insane. 

They don’t touch, no longer hum

Can’t he see they ran away?

When they reunite, they ignite

Verbalising is redundant

Words and language less abundant

Nothing to say, their touch stay

They’re mortal, yet he prays,

Their hands absorb what can’t be said.

Snoring isn’t to be judged.

He forgets to sleep, 

Has lost one or two pounds of his soul.

Eating is a thing of the past

simple things, like sweet treats in a bowl

His cause has a purpose he knows:

a coffin of feelings to dig and avoid.

A text that announces an earthquake

More probable than hearing ‘are you okey’

Embrace for impact - the forecast is wrong

They arrive, move their lips, claim a kiss

just like this: they are gone and dismiss. 

For another train: another day

Except for him, he ran out of more days.

For them to compete, a trophy they seek?

There isn’t a prize, darling, he’s out of play

To win over something they can not steal

The memories of a lifetime he already sealed

Avoid, disappoint— what else can they toy?

They keep thinking he’s fallen, 

They read nothing but tabloids.  

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