The Malang

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    old memories
    his love
    his affection
    out of the
    window
    of her heart
    she flung
    her actions
    on the soul
    of a malang
    viciously
    like a bee
    she stung
    his pain
    his poetry
    his pathos
    far flung
    from
    the end
    of her
    lal dupatta
    from a fan
    he hung
    reciting prayers
    to his holy saints
    adler freud and jung
    a poet who
    lost his tongue
    her presence
    made him young
    till the baton
    of her childish
    precociousness
    on his head
    she flung
    a malang
    buried
    on a heap of
    a cow dung
    he died
    unsung
    she kissed
    him back to life
    made him write
    another poem
    than once again
    from a tall crane
    she re hung
    a goddess
    blessed with a
    forked tongue
    a surprise
    on his dead soul
    she sprung

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