A middle aged man facing menopause celebrates when his wife is not at home
Life slips away
through fingers
like water
Or like
mud through potter’s hand
however much you try to
give shape or direction
it evades
the middle aged man
mourns in his bed
thinking of what he could have been
of youth
of firmness, endlessness
days of innumerable possibilities
now his path is certain
there are not many things that he can become
he has become all that he can
a son, a husband, a father
there is only one path for him
fixed
but even then he feels
he is not in control
When will I
come to grips with life?
when can I give shape?
will mothers, wives, and sisters
let me be?
he mourns
and falls in to sleep
as his drunk lips
lose control of
the cigarette in his mouth.
Indian Review | Indian Literature Author | B.V. Rama Prasad . is an associate professor in the post graduate department of English, in a rural university called Kuvempu University, Shankaraghatta, Shimogga, Karnataka, India.
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