|George Tooker- Self Portrait|
must not listen to the whispers
travelling the insides of a conch
nor feel the softness of his cotton sheets
no cool water should flow over his feet
he shall not have the pleasure of deseeding a grape in his mouth
or gaze into the green of the paddy fields
not for him the scent of the coral flowers
or exult in the sight and sound of children laughing
for the moment is merely a pause,
a poet now, a soldier next.
A soldier now,
his conch lows the call for war
© 2015 Padmavani Karkera
In response to the Magpie Tales prompt at http://magpietales.blogspot.in/2015/10/mag-289.html . Thank you Tess Kincaid.