Thursday, June 10, 2010

seasons of loneliness

the earth is empty of rain

it has given up its bowels

exposed them

mud grey


it doesn't starve

it lies like a wet mouth

open

as if run over by a train


not parched

but out of habit


it is a lie

this harvest

fertility

green

the sapling


all make-believe


stories for children

to soothe

fill the emptiness

they will soon begin to grow into,

yawn


when they come face to face

hollow-eyed

in the mirror of life.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

right place

the building

blooms

with a fire from behind


it gives her life


she is in the line of the climbing

sun

her spine is wet 

her edges inflamed

her cheeks pink


she is taller than any

sky scraper in the city


because of an accidental positioning

of her 

on the moving curve

of the earth


this little building.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

the ferocity of strangers

(For Dr. SRA)

 

I understand your divinity

You, my devotion

 

We are enthralled

into an eternal lip lock

 

savage and whole

 

i once asked a lover

why do lips swell?

 

he said they were like seeds

of the hibiscus

that sieve

off love.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

growing up.

my heartbeat is exposed

Keya,

in the form of you growing up


raw, round nervous cells

under the sticky wet


as you fly from lusting hands

of family to those of forty thousand ayahs.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Monday, March 15, 2010

real estate


pulitzer

he states

an award winning building

window to a world view

nice green,

the hills,

an extra bedroom


it is gudi padwa

the festival of beginnings

'with a down payment

the pied-à-terre is yours'


we have sold

lung, kidney, heart


ushering our selves

into these empty rooms.





(c) Rochelle Potkar


Sunday, February 21, 2010

motherhood

(to me is):

like a candle

that curdles 

around its own feet

Every evening

crackling, burning, diminishing

 

Only to spring up the

next day

Whole and

ready to dance a flame on its shoulders.

slink

Sometimes worry

falls like a

pebble into water


and friendship

becomes a finder

and goes

after it.

Monday, January 25, 2010

wedding poem

The church was

             p

         o

    t

a

and sloping alongside

were faint sun h

                            i

                                 l

                                       l

                                            s.


people singing hymns

in violet, purple, lilac, 

indigo, lavender, pink


disguised 

in rouge, 

eye-lashes,  

perfumes, curls


witnessing nuptials

of a beautiful, nervous couple


on a malt evening

raining rainbows.