Diagnosis!
Jayanta Oinam *
That day, I wore nothing but a thin layer of skin
And they put me through a machine
The machine sucked my soul through little veins
And they call hope in practice.
And amidst the duel
I observed a funny exercise
And they called it Diagnosis!
My beloved, who wore a sub-routine make-up;
She murmured and touches my breath,
Her tender palm in my rippled chest
And few drops of tears,
And I thought,
We have a lifetime to copulate.
The machines
They stoop so low
They devise all fickle mechanisms
And there, I was a pig
A dirty pig
A snorting pig;
A pig through the machine
And the conclusion was a pretentious hope.
The machine and me and the diagnosis;
My weary skin couldn't care less,
Except for a hope:
Besides my body,
She stood tall!
* Poem written by Jayanta Oinam ( a regular contributor to e-pao.net) . The poet can be contacted at jayanta_oinam(at)rediffmail(dot)com . You can also check out his blog at Leitmotif
This poem was webcasted on April 04, 2009.
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