A Poem by Satya Dash
Self-Appraisal
In the risk of light, dirt stings
My eyes, affirming its soundless
Accumulation. I realize I sang in confidence
The wrong song for years. The ones
I could have loved dearly were driven
Away in ruthless sequence by misinformed
Syllables. Where I did pick up these
Nuggets of repulsion? Under the mosquito
Net, I spent a substantial part of my night
Life, my snoring eyes imagined planets,
My ear passing through tunnels, clinging
To the backside of express trains. I ate samosas
Daily for six years straight. I liked things deep
Fried, dipping them in hot sauce. I liked lacing
My tongue with lemon juice before the first bite
Of a meal. Still I never qualified as kinky
Because I kept finding ways to blame myself
For my failure to usurp the past. This meant
I never offered a 100 percent of my self
To the present. The days I drank whiskey
Coincided with the days on which I said
I love you. Thanks to my slackening metabolism,
Correlation stopped betraying causation. Drinking
Prohibited my inhibitions, ushered my latent
Flamboyance. Some even said, I was good
Company when intoxicated. It’s a pity
This never made it to my CV. All minds
Are museums. I know the inside
Of only mine. Rusty as fuck. The kite I flew once
Remains entangled in the transmission lines
Of a cellphone tower. My hands keep wanting
To crease its rhombus. After it rains
Flying termites leave their tiny helicopter
Wings on my writing desk. Some get stuck
To my fingertips. My nails glisten
On both sides.
Satya Dash is the recipient of the 2020 Srinivas Rayaprol Poetry Prize and a finalist for the 2020 Broken River Prize. His poems appear in The Boiler, ANMLY, Waxwing, Rhino Poetry, Cincinnati Review, and Diagram, among others. Apart from having a degree in electronics from BITS Pilani-Goa, he has been a cricket commentator. He has been nominated previously for Pushcart, Best of the Net and Best New Poets. He grew up in Cuttack and now lives in Bangalore, India. He tweets at: @satya043