allegory
of gods and demons with paper
hats and paper swords
while you and i
tow sagging boats across
purple rivers.
someone warned me once
of wetted lines,
the smudge of objective
shape into subjective
mirage. so i
soaked a graph
in the river
and saw Nandi abandoned
in a paper plane adrift
and empty in still wind,
its crumpled nose pointed
toward the smear between
the line of i and
the curve of u.
this metaphor condensed
is now too wide,
this river stained with
blue blood of fables and red
guilt of their failures was lost
in the last
text.
i am either
smooth as stone
beneath the tide
or floating easy
as cement.
where you come into all this
is hard to say, but the ink
sags with your weight.
(Nandi is Shiva's [the god of destruction] constant and most devoted companion.)
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