By Rajnish Mishra

 

I’m the master

of beginnings; neither middle, nor end,

of steps that hang, neither rise nor fall,

of sounds that are, reach ears mean nothing.

Try not to call me, or meet me (never).

Mail me. Mails are good, convenient too.

There’s no guarantee that I’ll mail you back.

I respond or reply at my leisure

for my pleasure.

Had you been a little less

than you, I’d suspect you, but you, as you are,

I can’t suspect. If I do, then the end of

the middle comes.

Then, apocalypse comes.

 

Rajnish Mishra is a poet, writer, translator and blogger born and brought up in Varanasi, India and now in exile from his city. His work originates at the point of intersection between his psyche and his city. His work has now started appearing in journals and websites.

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