Printer Friendly


Look now, the entire forest has gone dead

as wood in this room, in that polished four-poster bed in that nocturnal chair! you are sitting on a tree's tomb. And on the table, the stoney-eyed cockatoo is a dead bird hunched on a dead branch. And you are absorbing their curses daily! Because you alone have thrashed the whole forest to death. This chunk of wood once gave forth living flowers; inside the myriad solid buds thick, continuous life poured out. Your fancy bedstead won't be decked with flowers now. The pillow's cotton stuffing hankers for revenge, it will throw its damning silken threads into your dreams. The disembodied forest will breathe into you and among all this wood you will be slowly turned to wood. The life force will drain out of your five senses.
COPYRIGHT 1993 World Poetry, Inc.
No portion of this article can be reproduced without the express written permission from the copyright holder.
Copyright 1993 Gale, Cengage Learning. All rights reserved.

Article Details
Printer friendly Cite/link Email Feedback
Title Annotation:Three Bengali Women Poets; poem
Author:Sinha, kabita; Chatterjee, Enaksi; Wright, Carolyne
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Date:Jul 1, 1993
Previous Article:The last door's name is sorrow.
Next Article:Party.

Terms of use | Copyright © 2016 Farlex, Inc. | Feedback | For webmasters