Daalia

Sing me a song,
Over the raspy telephone,
Deny me a title
For the lyrics I gifted you;
Hum my mother's lullaby---
I know you heard me hum it
Between your eyes,
Along the immaculate noseline,
Under some sunny streaks
Of littered rice, a story-telling device,
And dahlia dice...
So you were my Daalia,
As the Thakur would remember,
Your royal tunes will play you....
And I will be in denial
Waiting for a dream
That was shimmering
Like a Tista mirage
On a foggy morning
Hither, before me...
Fishnets and medieval;
We played a village game.

You cried a ruse
To run bemused
On the banks of a winding lane
The asphalt tar of bitter words...
Verbose,

The running city dots
Sea-gulls in a river's coven...
Anachronous
Of faltering vanes...
Where to go,
Who to blame?

Gone...
Bucolic,
And undone,
Run,
Daalia,run!

Daalia,
Sing me a wordless song,
Daalia,
Sing me a wordless song....
As I hum...
Over this broken telephone...

I can hear you run.