Appearances
I hear a knock at the door . . .
but no one appears
I sigh with relief
because I don’t need
an audience
when I am dressed
in my pajamas at noon
couldn’t care less
to impress
or to pretend
I’m a sophisticate
just waking up late
having exhausted
my intellect solving
climate change
or something still undefined
but to be expected
at the crack of dawn
one day in the future
if I am still alive
when all I did
was stare at my coffee
until it was cold . . .
but the relief!
Oh why must I apologize
for what I wear
or what I believe
even if someone appears
uninvited at my door?
The thought troubles–
I go inside
myself . . . feeling
like a hypocrite
disenchanted by
the force of habit
to seem nice
(c) Neetu Malik
Some of Neetu’s Books
-
my room
a sanctuary
at the end of the day -
It must have been
a stormy night
when love flew out the window
of my vacant roomlike a feather
from a molting bird.
-
she gathers dreams that were
shattered in the last storm
fragments burnt and charred
when lightning struck, turned
an armful of hopes to ash—
she laces them into a willow hoop -
wetting my feet
in the old pondI pause to remember
-
how many steps
to the edge of the world
she wants to know
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