I wonder what happens
to all the space death leaves behind
What happens, for example,
to the wardrobe filled with clothes
that will not fit anyone anymore?
How lonely the shirts would get –
without any arms?
What about the socks?
That one pair especially
whose fabric had moulded itself –
for a double toe.
Will the jackets be given away?
Even the ones that were boasted
to last the harshest ofwinters?
*****
I wonder what happens
to all the space death leaves behind
Imagine, for example, the sad predicament
of the bed – to be sleeping night after night –
with the pillows crying into the mattress
without the warmth of an embrace.
What happens, then
to all the pairs of shoes and sandals
that have only ever known
one pair of feet?
Who will teach them
how to go around footless?
*****
I wonder what happens to
all the space death leaves behind
Does the metro get too busy to acknowledge
the loyal traveller on the violet line?
Somedays on time, sometimes late.
Someone else needs the seat more anyway.
On Sundays, then,
do the paths of Lodhi Garden
miss the tracks of a size 8?
And do the skies reminisce
the curious gaze of honey-coloured orbs?
*****
I wonder too, what happens to
all the time you leave behind
So many people holding on to memories –
so many memories that fill up all the space.
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable. sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you have a poem you’d like to submit, do email us at editor@madrascourier.com.
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