Friday, June 26, 2009

Watchdog by June Nandy

by June Nandy

I keep fragments of me

as achievements, in an urn

beside my bed

one of them wants to learn

magic now. Climb a cliff,

jump again. The rest of them

are awed by her.

Sitting at the porch, I've

seen flesh and bones

pass me by to magical

bivouacs, making love

to dark phantoms.

The little ones in the urn

have feathers still

swelling breasts and

my logical scrawls

on their waists.

Let them bang

and taste their

drunken folly

I have grown to the

habit of danger

I'll fix that

lid of a metal dross

and dictate the will

never to break me again.

Author bio:

June Nandy has been published by Sein und Werden, Winter '08, TajMahal Review, December '08, Poetry Super Highway (featured poet), Novemver '08 and in Decanto, June '09.

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