Apropos of love,
I’m an abandoned house.
Sure, there’s light in the hallway
and a box of cookies in the kitchen cupboard,
but it’s uninhabited
as though the cops raided
it and took away everything their hands
could steal and their batons could destroy.
There are burnt pictures of me in my graduation
robe and dying azaleas in the backyard,
each metamorphosing into the other,
waiting for me to show up with a
broom and a vase,
but I’m an infidel now,
I am an infidel now,
I can only listen…
I’m not allowed to speak.
BIOGRAPHY:
Karthik Keramalu is an Indian film critic and writer. His works have been published in Film Companion, The Hindu, Deccan Herald, The Quint, etc.