Read Poem: Trinkets, by Kartik Prajapat

if a home I had
I wouldn’t have discontinued
the trinkets, I find my life.
dispersed, decorative
they somehow have me they aren’t alone.

don’t figure out
who they are? or else you’ll
lead me, my urban
which you give the dreams
and where me, a dream daily dies.

a vase of 1990’s vintage stands
down in the mouth, porous, its skin
holds the patterns of the past,
sleazy newspapers read bulletins of the times horrible than ours;
in a pitcher, surrounds the life
of a broken lid, and no undersides.
thousands of kilos of polyethylene bags promises within,
an énouement sky I see over flyovers
gently sloping to our huts underneath
much the same as silt, grit, and gravels.

people where understand no people
think no more.
they couldn’t have but they’d skinned my cat for
their one-time meal and me, I ate my heart.

―Kartik Prajapat


Read Poem: Rattles and the Rust, by Kartik Prajapat

I endlessly search my flesh and bone
what undernourishment has it gone?

How come they speak of me being shy?
when my days actually passes high and dry.

Some ask me to hope while some to have desire,
struggling is my heart, it is set on fire.

The hands that nurtured me promptly degrades
and her blessings are left as the only trace.

Might be the rust she was bestowed
here I corrode against all her hopes.

This goes till then I was five
Alike the present full of strife.

She kept screaming ‘Help O’ help!’
I was alerted & going to yelp.

He throttled me in a fit of rage
”Damn it you bastard! You shall also die in a cage”

I moved forth and tried to stop,
but my hands were barred by him, from the top.

“Stop here for my pity sake”
he added – Let her char O’ bloody snake!

You are vigilant and letting her die
Applauds to you, bidding her goodbyes.

You went up in the flames, burning so high
O’ count me the reasons, Mumma! what & why?

“Keep blazing O’, dear son
You are my residue, the charcoal unburned.”

Arid feels my heart, the dry leaves crinkle
blow me up with you, I’m ready to mingle.

I switch off the lights, what is sleep?
where’s gone that lap, I used to weep?

Nights are drearier than ever before
I often search for me in my core.

Your wailing reverberates up to now
I turned 23, I still wonder when and how?

Every time I breathe in my soggy lungs
a rattle of your presence fills me with the spunk.

Here I stand as your only fraction,
inbuilt into dynamite give me some friction.

You made me invincible, the heat is on
If only you were here, what wasn’t that I own?

―Kartik Prajapat