Two poems by Smita Sahay

In this Moment

I pull my hair

back, stretch

to the morning smell

of a cool Saturday, play

‘Bad day’, hum,

smile - to no one.

I smell cinnamon, roll

brown sugar, burn

caramel, pour

cream. Beat,

fold, fluff, bake, taste – umm, delicious,

set a table for two.

I cut flowers into the vase, brush

my hair, till it ripples

like water, wear strawberry

gloss, spray

'Mediterranean' below

the neck.

I play ‘Tonight’s gonna be a good night’,

endure tick – tick – tick, before

the elevator stops, bell rings and

I graze your stubble, smell your cologne, taste your tongue,

throw myself into your arms, stay in this moment, forever.

For Marilyn Monroe

You flowed down the blue bus

into a brown puddle

below the yellow lamp post

and hung there –

beneath streetlights.

As I walked past,

my cane poked your right eye

and rippled your left.

I walked on,

head in a woolly cap,

heart wrapped in pashmina,

tottering on wobbly knees,

my cane click-clacking.

My head held your pictures

and heart heard voices –

your voices.

You flow in your white dress upon that vent

and croon ‘Diamonds’.

Now you live on buses,

on billboards,

fashion catalogues,

magazine covers;

my memories

and brown puddles.

Smita Sahay is a writer, poet, critic and translator based in Mumbai. Her short stories, poetry and book reviews have appeared in Ripples, Asia Writes, Pedestal Magazine, Celebrating India, Muse India, Cha Journal, Women’s Web and Misty Mountain Journal. She co-edits 'Veils, Halos and Shackles – International Poetry on the Abuse and Oppression of Women' with Dr. Charles Fishman. Currently, she is working on her first book of fiction.