Burning Elegiac Corns

“Those who have crossed

With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom

Remember us—if at all—not as lost

Violent souls, but only

As the hollow men

The stuffed men.” 

                                              (The Hollow Men, T.S.Eliot)

I

Burning elegiac corns were staring at dazed eyes

On glittering footpaths

As the smell was growing familiar.

Hearts were pointing out like sharp stones

On wet streets

And evening was crying out in still silence

About the day’s daylight.

Emotions were wobbling like foam

In the vessel of stone:

Which then followed the gutter.

I retreated like heavenly shadows

Into tunnels of choking smoke

Dying to forget everything;

But the odour of lost days

Died to kill;

Cried to kill.

II

Sharp hearts

Bleeding feet

Streets wet with blood

Dead strangers

Heavy skies

Falling tears

Reventons blowing might

Children tasting smoke

Women tasting rape

Dead days

Dead people

Dead families.