(for ‘The Catalogue’, 2003, a multi-media exhibition by artist Vidya Kamat)
It begins in the body –
behind the drizzle of breath,
the habit of bone,
in the violet light where desires
surge like electrons,
perhaps in the womb.
Dark with rumour,
destiny veiled, secrets numberless,
a space rife
with rage
and promise.
There are toxins enough here
to burn a crater through this page.
Enough of the wounded Surpanakha
to slice off a few noses before sun-down.
Contempt enough
to dismiss those who aren’t friends
as simply so much noise.
Humus enough,
clotted and churning,
to dream a thousand planets
of rain-forested thought.
Fuel enough
to erase them
into centuries of ash.
And beyond
in the distant horizon,
in a flickering interval,
you see it rising to meet you –
a carnival of sun
and blood
and stillness.