Shape-shifting
David Caspar — “Cocoon”
Poem by: ROCHELLE POTKAR
Like an eye sheered in light
contract to the vibes of bestial men
Curdle amidst your clothes that hide
the cleavage, figure, narrow waist, thigh
Grow lard so you can’t be seen
retreat, refuge, go where the sun isn’t
Or invade.
Walk the streets,
expand like a river of rage, naked
on freewill and the edges of total abandon
A two-forked road it will always be,
a mobius mountain
-not once but every time
Ask whose city you are in?
and body? Whose country?
and philosophy?
In whose memory shall your life be contained?
And will it be a good one or a bad one?
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Rochelle Potkar was born in the small town of Kalyan – and – craved the big city only to realize that Bombay was a small town in a large world. Her stories have appeared in several Indian and international magazines. She is the author of “The Arithmetic of breasts and other stories.” Her next book, “Dreams of Déjà vu”, is a speculative novel. She now lives in the ‘pandoramic’ city of Mumbai and Bombay with people real and imagined. She blogs at www.rochellepotkar.com