For the Earth that’s Losing Itself

After Dante Di Stefano

Write about shrinking spaces

Write about the colour green

Write a line of chopped trees

Write a symphony of broken rings

Write yourself an optimist.

Write about grandma‘s earth.

Wells in whose waters you could meet your eyes

Feather-touch hand pumps that sprung fountains

The jugalbandi of rains and tumescent ponds

Write about making love. Write yourself nostalgic.

Write about now - the unstitched bellies of lakes

White, once the last skin of water disappears

Summer crisscrossing powdery topsoil

Imitating the open lips of death

on an old mother’s face. Write yourself vetoed.

Write about Madhav who marries thrice

Each bride, a water bride, fetching more water

Write about women who welcome co wives

who put lumbago before self esteem

Write about the dictates of water. Write yourself polygamous.

Write about Kalidasa’s Meghdoot

Whether we’ll ever know a messenger like it again

- dark, dense, moist. Generous. Giving. Godlike.

Write about lynching reservoirs dry

Write yourself parched. Write yourself anhydrous