Monkeys in the Air
Somewhere among the treetops, a rustle.
Branches sway as if a little whirlwind hit.
Against the backlight of the sky, dark shadows
Jump; I look around, hold the bananas close to me.
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Cheerful, Balachandran V, in English Clear filters
Morsel in the Mouth
You can feel it with your tongue-
The more you feel it
The deeper it delves
Into the crevasses of your teeth
Entrenched, stuck
It becomes part
Of your molars or wisdom.
The surreptitious search
for a toothpick -
even a matchstick to ease
the discomfort -
to poke
to probe
to dig
to dislodge
to divest, finally
THE DRIVE
Today, aged forty-eight and few months,
I gained the right to drive a car.
A bit odd, it was, to stand amidst youth,
Grey haired, bald and a paunch to boot.
Like a baby taking its first steps,
I drove an H, snug, between iron rods.
Forward in first, backward in reverse,
Turn a right and then a left, do it twice for an H.
In the clutch, I sense the release
In the throttle, the urge to move.
Braking when enough, shifting,
Gears to change my pace.
Aged middle, I drove on the left
Steering myself steadily.
Off the middle, slightly to left
I drove as I have, all my life.
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