By Urvish Lodha
sweet summer palms sway
smoothly as the parrots keep
screeching to my face
patiently waiting as though
for a green almond leaf to turn red
breath cannot let go
wet as the showers.
the sky is dripping orange juice,
and I’m still waiting in this summer heat
although downcast at these drenched leaves
with no music left to draw.
dogfight barks
a crack in the old sky—
the factory has let go
its shutters clanging
the radio and television
clatter with all the world’s sound
but, ears peeled
I sit and seek music from this sky.
till, with the bend of the wing
and the lift of the beak,
I have it:
balancing on the blades
of a palm frond
Urvish Lodha
zygodactyl braced-
takes of , headstrong
into parrot song
salty, squeaking parrot song
sweet summer palms sway (ay!)
smoothly as the parrots keep (shriek!)
screeching to my face (ace!)
~
o, I was twelve, watching the flock flutter across the sky.
By Urvish Lodha
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