Even when logograms of lust don’t come into play
pampering with fiscal feelers is a type of foreplay.
In sequences with the subaltern acts like take-home
a few days prior to the month end spurs them to
unspool, sharing from their warehouse of wounds.
I listen, nod, let them vent. I encourage them to
ambulate on an unhurried entrada, offering them
atmospherics to make errors my editors never let me.
Dossier of your doings is in the ashcan of
my interiority. Smoking you was deleterious
to self-image. I strolled to and fro in my mind,
alighted from staircase of fuzzy connections.
Fanfaronade is fine but dictums can’t live it.
The rowing of ravens is shut off by soundproof
oriels. How does one seal these anechoic squeals?
In your right arm’s pillbox I found my peace.
My breath signed our bond. That is how we
lasted, at least in my mind. Can any deodorant
please a blocked nose? Jokes are a veiled way
of airbrushing versions. Distended arches take
time to rejoin the original curve. Camouflage:
for shysters and soldiers.
Sanjeev Sethi is the author of three well-received books of poetry. His most recent collection is This Summer and That Summer (Bloomsbury, 2015). His poems are in venues around the world including Indiana Voice Journal, Zoomoozophone Review, Drunk Monkeys, Degenerate Literature, The Penwood Review, W.I.S.H. Press, Pyrokinection, Easy Street, Stanzaic Stylings, Sentinel Literary Quarterly, Novelmasters, Poetry Pacific, Transnational Literature, Postcolonial Text, Otoliths, and elsewhere. He lives in Mumbai, India.