Snakes | Kamayani Vashisht

I often wonder what came of the neighbourhood boys
Who threw a dead snake at me
While playing in the apple orchard
Forty moons ago
Did the highways they drove on
Ever remind them of the girl who almost choked of fear?
Do they laugh over the prank
Every time they meet and
Reminisce the joys of childhood ?

Meanwhile I have met them
In a million moments
In a thousand pair of eyes
On buses and trains, in subways
Across newspaper headlines, on television screens
Amidst the hundreds caught parading my sisters
In a certain somewhere called paradise
I recognize their teeth
And I know their hands, their voices and their smell

Do they sprout from each other’s sweat?
For blood, I am sure doesn’t look like this.
My cup runs over, my lord
With fury; for ever I meet them
Multitudes...
Multitudes of snakes, hands, snakes, hands
Snakes, hands, snakes, eyes, snakes, teeth
Snakes, snakes, snakes!

Kamayani Vashisht writes on Indian Review. Indian Review brings you literature from around the world.