922 Dn

a poem by Porthos

sheds its dull
pallor on this mobile dungeon
petty, my fellow inmates
dhoti clad dregs of humanity.

my abortive attempts
at human integration
regarded in noisy
betel chewing nonchalance.

Can you blame me then
suffocated and burdened
with the prospect
of an eternity
to be spent here
for this sudden effort to escape.

Face flattened
against horizontal prison bars
perhaps I expect
a golden sunrise
or a fresh breath of green relief outside
but stark
the exterior flashes past.

a hundred black buttocks
defecating into the cold morning
with casual abandon
India, at a glance
a vision-tragic as a scream…