Satya Dash

DIWALI SONNETS

I

Rum orange of the yolk sun balks briefly
the good festival of light doubling up
as the festival of resounding smoke.
Our ability to moderate dies.
A rocket screeches into a tree twinkling
emerald pop behind the phone tower―
ferris wheel of gunpowder, nitrate snow,
the crisp air wailing cruel friction A child
tugs at his father’s pocket―Show me
more light in the sky. The dog, flat like bread
in a corner, jaw drooling sideways
like a wrestler tapped out, match long conceded
to war sounds and sudden climaxes. I too
save my howls for a night of better ache.

II

The next dawn arrives without approval,
almost without notice. A middle aged
jogger at Khan Market feels his lungs yowl
for the first time like his heart. The city
caked under a thick frosting that would have
sunscreen makers lose sleep. Particulate
matter descending like confetti. Spit
turns wintery, masks―impediments for
facial recognition phone locks. A friend
considers leaving the city. The dog
has a faint idea of leaving, his pink
tongue lolling out like a mush curtain
in the day’s largesse, grateful for
his underwhelming life expectancy.

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Satya Dash’s poems have been published or are forthcoming in Waxwing, Wildness, Redivider, Passages North, The Journal, The Florida Review, Hobart, The Cortland Review and Poetry@Sangam among others. Apart from having a degree in electronics from BITS Pilani-Goa, he has been a cricket commentator too. He is a two-time Orison Anthology and Best New Poets nominee. He spent his early years in Odisha and now lives in Bangalore, India. He tweets at: @satya043