My Facial Features at Eighty
Cumulus clouds, spider webs
or heaped debris after a storm
what will my face look like when I shall be eighty?
I shall remember then
my reflection on rippling water,
the petals I kissed,
the chameleon I mistook for lichens,
at Eighty I shall mistake poison for gin!
Ravines, dents on the steel door
or potholes on the street
toothless I will be at Eighty.
I shall recall then
the foaming candy in my mouth
my first date at the dentistís
the way I was stung by a bee,
I mistook a floss for a string of guitar
at Eighty I shall mistake my corpse for a ply.
Raisins, autumn leaves
or land after a drought
my lips will be sunken at Eighty
I shall frown then,
the severe jaw fracture
the prayers for hastened recovery
the yellow basalt stone I mistook for jaggery,
At Eighty I shall mistake my soul for a wisp of air.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Anindita Sarkar would be pleased to hear them.